Stir Thy Heart, Shadows
by half-breedMiralian
Summary: Now that most of the black dream sand has been reverted, Pitch Black must resort to using shadows of the past. New enemies are made of old faces, and Jack Frost finds himself being disregarded as a contender in the approaching battle. As he struggles against this new threat, he develops a dangerous connection with his greatest enemy. And he has no wish to sever it. Black/Frost
1. Watch and Wait

**Watch and Wait**

It was, to say the least, the start of a new age. Perhaps not in the eyes of the mortals, but of the others. The immortals, spirits, creatures, fairies – no one had not heard of the defeat of the Nightmare King. To say that those of the light were enthralled would be, perhaps, an understatement.

The celebration which followed was overwhelming. North, in a predictable display of generosity, opened the Workshop. To everyone. Granted, the spirits did not flock to the Pole in one day, but for a good week, all manners of beings flitted in and out of North's grandiose home.

In the middle of it, Jack Frost found himself swept up in the commotion. And he loved it.

Not just because of the liveliness of the party. Not just because he was surrounded by his fellow Guardians. Not just because Jamie and his friends were able to secretly visit during one of those days because, well, school had been cancelled due to a rather rambunctious snow storm that suddenly cropped up in Burgess, leaving the children to their own devices. Not just because of the mere _reason_ they were celebrating.

It was because of the people. The beings he met. Never in his three-hundred years had he met so many creatures like him, and while they weren't specifically _like_ him, for he had never seen a single frost spirit in his life, they were his kind: the otherworldly, the long living, the spirits, the immortals.

It was a shame when the festivities ended, but the Guardians continued it quietly within North's home for one final night: a rowdy, close, personal dinner in the kitchens after they shooed all the elves and yeti out.

Following that, business was upon them. North and Bunny immediately snapped back to work as though they hadn't enough time left after losing a week. Tooth was eager to make changes to her schedule, so that she might still step out into the field more often and fly with her mini fairies. Sandy, the most lax of them, held no complaints, save that he had a little sleep to catch up on.

Once more, Jack was left to his own devices, an aimless wanderer, yet his heart was not so lonely. He had friends now. A family, if he wanted to stretch it that far. He found that he did.

Still, not two days post celebration, North quickly summoned them to the Workshop, not with a sense of urgency, but with an air of remembrance. "I am almost forgetting," he chuckled once they were seated around the round table in the Globe Room. "We are needing shifts, yes?"

He received blank looks, and he cocked his head in consideration.

"For Pitch."

Ah, yes. How could they have forgotten? While the Nightmare King was indeed weakened and had been dragged back to his godforsaken hole, there was still the matter of keeping an eye on him.

The conversation quickly turned into details on what signs to look for, what counted as suspicious activity, what to do if Pitch's dark Nightmares ran rampant when they finished with him, and so on, yet Jack rapped the table with his staff, sending icy sparks out, and voiced the question that they had not yet considered.

"Who's got first watch?"

To say they drew straws would have been magnificent. However, the watch schedule was to be created based on need and time. It should be monthly, Bunny decided, and North stated that he (or she, he added hastily to Tooth) with the most need for time should go last.

Therefore, the first watch obviously fell to Jack, and by succession, Sandy, Tooth, Bunny, and North.

Jack threw a fit. He called them traitors. He begged – in a _wholly_ dignified manner, thank you very much – that he at least be allowed to take second shift. However, Sandy was already asleep by then, and his companions would not let the slot be changed without consent, so away Jack flew, angrily icing a few elves on his way out.

Traitors, the lot of them.

* * *

He felt fear. He would not deny it. Standing at the crumbling edge of the hole in the ground that served as the crude entrance for Pitch's lair, Jack found he could not quell his worries. Pitch had been sent a notification via golden dream sand informing him that he would be under watch, but whether he had actually gotten it, or accepted it, was not known.

Flexing his fingers around his staff, Jack descended.

The first thing he saw when he floated out into the cavern was sand. Light wisps of black sand which stirred the air and hushed softly across his bare feet as he flew through it. He descended, weaving through crooked bridges and broken archways until he reached the floor. He tilted his head back to take in the cavernous lair.

The ceilings, the stalactites, the hanging cages, the lurking shadows that he just knew were remnants of Pitch's power. He hadn't imagined this place being so big. The last time he had seen it, the floor had been covered and piled high with millions of elegant tooth canisters. Yet he stared at the empty space now in awe and imagined the place decked in frost, and almost smiled by the image of glistening ice chandeliers and snowy bridges and—

"Letting your guard down already?"

His head snapped down harshly and he slapped his staff in his other hand, forcing a spark of ice from each end. Blue eyes scanned the shadows quickly, but found no movement to take in.

"_Foolish._"

The heat was searing against the back of his neck. It sent lazy curls of warmth through his back, forced something to shift in his stomach, put an extra beat in his heart, tickled his toes into curling.

He supposed fear felt different every time.

Jack shoved the butt of the staff back but felt nothing connect. He glanced behind him, then before him, and was met with twin solar eclipses.

He had seen them before. Eclipses, of course. They were usually torturously slow in forming, and he had gotten bored of watching and usually found something else to do before finally looking up at the crucial moment and regarding the finished product of the heavens. He had always felt a burst of wonder towards the Man in the Moon for being a part of this beautiful occurrence, even when he was angry at him for remaining in silence.

Something was different here. Very different, very wrong.

These eclipses were close, so close to him. He saw himself in them. He saw his shock and fear in his reflection. These eclipses felt _alive_. And these eclipses felt _dangerous._

Pitch Black chuckled quietly at his frozen prey and stepped back, finally giving Jack a chance to _breathe._ He remembered how to breathe, right?

"Rather stupid of old North to send their weakest link."

Jack caught his mental bearings, but could only mumble, "Bastard."

That toothy grin gleamed as Pitch melted with the shadows. "Touchy thing, aren't we? So what are you to do with me today, _Frost_? Read me my rights? Shadow my every move?"

Jack knew he shouldn't be scared. His lip curled in a sneer. "I'm just here to check in. One day every few months for me. Doesn't mean I have to watch _you_ all the time."

An ashen hand gracefully gestured around the cavern. "Then by all means, check. Wander into a tunnel, why don't you? I'm sure you'll find something quite fascinating there."

All this time, Jack's ears had been pounding with his heartbeat (it never ceased to amaze him that he could still have a heartbeat). As his hearing cleared and he focused on Pitch's voice, something seemed…off.

The voice was usually smooth, silky, layered with black velvet and black promises. Yet now, while the charm and eloquence was still there, it sounded rough. Hoarse. Scratchy.

_Like it's raw from screaming._

"Where are the Nightmares?" Jack inquired immediately.

Pitch's eyes shifted ever so slightly to the side. "Still here."

Jack pointed his staff at Pitch, not sure if he wanted to appear threatening or simply demanding. "What happened to them?"

The laugh, while scratchy, was deep and scornful and, though Jack thought it was his imagination, perhaps a bit annoyed. "What's the matter, Guardian? Worried that I might be accumulating power if I've gotten a few horses under control?" That smile curled into a sneer. "Well, don't. My power was lost with the dream sand. The Nightmares are around here somewhere, wandering. They're done with me. They will probably fade away without a source of fear to feed on."

Why did Jack feel like there was a "so will I" lurking in there? His eyes flickered upward to the way he had entered, thinking of the wards North and Bunny had set up around the clearing topside. They alerted the Guardians whenever Pitch left his lair, and prevented him from teleporting directly into their territories through his shadows.

A quiet sigh turned his eyes back to Pitch. The Nightmare King was looking off to his left at a series of tunnels. "Go away, Frost. I read the notice. You are not required to remain in my presence for twenty-four hours. This is just a social call." He glanced back at Jack and suddenly grinned widely. "I can see you shaking from here. And your fear smells quite tantalizing."

Jack looked down at his hands and indeed saw visible tremors running through them, shaking the staff. He lifted up and hovered a few feet off the ground, tucking his legs under him as though he were afraid the shadows would suddenly leap off the floor and latch themselves onto him.

No. He _was_ afraid.

And Pitch was staring. "Get out, Frost. I have no need for tepid watchmen."

* * *

To say that the first shift could have gone better was an understatement. Upon relating it to his fellow Guardians, Bunny laughed. The others were a bit more sympathetic, even reassured him that it was perfectly well and fine that he hadn't searched a few rooms or tunnels to make sure Pitch wasn't planning something with his shadows.

They all pressed on through the months, and soon each of their shifts had passed.

Jack arrived at North's Workshop expecting the others to be there so they could decide the next order of shifts, but North was busy, the others were quite absent, and when Jack mentioned Pitch, North mumbled that perhaps he should search a tunnel this time.

With a sinking feeling burrowing its way through his stomach, Jack caught a quick wind from the Pole to Pitch's lair the next morning, knowing that this schedule would remain permanent. When he easily slipped down the hole and touched the cavern floor, he was ready, heart steeled against whatever Pitch had to throw at him.

He was greeted by silence.

A quick turn about that area of the cavern floor proved that Pitch was absent. Jack stopped and turned his eyes to one of the tunnels. After a moment, he tamped down his fear, wielded his staff before him, and stepped into the dark maw.

It took three steps before his throat closed up.

He could see nothing before him, not even with the dim glow of the cavern at his back. He remembered a blackness like this, long, long ago. Centuries ago, before he had awoken as himself.

While the cold hadn't bothered him, the darkness had.

_This_ darkness did not merely bother him. It frightened him.

There was a deep inhale of breath, and he almost didn't realize that it hadn't come from him until a throaty voice purred in his ear, "Your fear smells _amazing._"

That gave him the push.

His staff sang with violent blue light, and he spun it in a wide ark with a cry. He knew the wave of frosty energy struck nothing, but it cut through the darkness like a blade, and he thought he saw individual shadows scurrying back, further into the tunnel. He flew out into the open quickly and took several deep breaths, trying not to quiver with rage at the sound of Pitch's laughter.

"Oh," Pitch sang, stepping from that very tunnel, "not as well adjusted as we thought, hm?" Jack didn't even try to move as he approached. "I say, Frost, you seem more frightened of me now than you were when I posed a threat. I think I like this fear of yours better."

Jack wearily looked up at the tall shadow walker and blinked. Pitch was different. He had changed quite drastically, in fact. His cheekbones were sunken, and his figure, while rather lean before, had diminished. Jack felt like he could reach out and snap any of Pitch's limbs like twigs. That thought made his lips curl upward smugly.

He stood his staff upright and hopped on the crook, stretching his back until he was on Pitch's eyelevel. "Keep talking about my fear being so tasty like that and I'll think you're flirting with me. And I don't think you'll find a lot of fear in me anymore. Not after what I'm seeing right here."

He knew Pitch understood what he was talking about, and he felt a dark satisfaction curl about his heart as he watched those golden eyes simmer with rage. That was another thing though: Pitch's eyes had dulled. They were no longer vibrant. Even now, as Pitch stepped back and rested in the shadows, Jack had to stare rather hard to track those golden eclipses.

"Are you dying or something?" he asked quietly.

Pitch scoffed, equally quiet. "Of course not."

It was essentially a silly question. Jack knew they couldn't die naturally. Only if another spirit like them brought about their deaths in an unnatural manner. Pitch certainly wasn't going to be attacked anytime soon. However, that brought no comfort to Jack – and he didn't know why he was seeking to reassure himself that Pitch wouldn't die – especially because Pitch did not look well, period.

"Are you sick?"

"I was unaware that we could contract illness."

Jack tried to search for another way to delve into Pitch's condition, but the Nightmare King beat him to the next sentence.

"Why do you care?"

_Great question. I don't know._ Jack's lips tightened in a thin line, and he tried to think of a good answer, but nothing came to mind. Pitch's gaze grew skeptical, and he seemed to nod, as though he understood that Jack didn't know, and it was perfectly acceptable.

Neither spoke a word, and the Jack slowly turned and left, pondering on Pitch's wasted state. He wondered what the man would look like after five more months, and shuddered when the image came to mind.

* * *

"I think he's sick."

"Sick?" Tooth repeated, flitting about the exterior of the hanging tower which represented South America. "We don't get sick."

"Yeah, I know," Jack said impatiently as Tooth chattered quickly with some of the mini fairies organizing teeth in the Brazilian sector. "But he's not well. Have you ever seen a spirit that just looks like he's…fading?"

Tooth paused and looked at him, oddly sympathetic. "Yes, but I hardly think that's happening to Pitch Black."

"But he looks—"

"Jack, before you came along, we defeated him plenty of times. And time after time, he didn't fade, I promise you that. We didn't keep tabs on him, but we always knew he was out there."

Jack shuffled his feet in mid-air, silently willing the flighty fairy to just pause and actually consider what he was saying, but Tooth continued, "He's not dying, if that's what you're thinking."

"N-no, of course not," Jack said. He hesitated, then bowed out gracefully. "Maybe I'm just overthinking it. Sorry, I'll let you get back to work."

_Now_ Tooth looked like she was actually listening to him. "Jack, you can tell me whatever is really bothering you."

_This _is_ what's bothering me! We've dropped him into a hole to rot!_ But Jack carefully masked his frustration and shook his silver head. "Naw, I'm okay. Thanks, Tooth."

Bunny was next on his list, and Jack knew the conversation was doomed from the moment he hinted at Pitch's state.

"The little rat's finally gettin' a taste of his own medicine?" Bunny laughed from atop one of his stone warriors, carefully overseeing the march of his precious eggs. "It's about time."

Jack didn't know where this annoyance in his chest was coming from. He chose his words carefully. "If by medicine, you mean being forgotten, then sure. But he's already gone through this once before. I don't think it's right."

Bunny's ears were at half-mast, signaling that he was listening, but not paying attention to the weight behind Jack's words. "And you think it was right for him to make us disappear n' fade from the ankle biters' minds? He gets no justification, kid."

"I'm not justifying what he did, I'm just—_agh_, you're the worst person I could have come to!"

Bunny didn't watch him leave. Probably didn't care.

Sandy didn't really want to talk about Pitch. Jack tried to mention the Nightmare King's condition, but Sandy began to rapidly flash so many symbols that Jack had to hold up his hands in defeat and try again.

"Okay, okay! I get it. You're still angry that he took your dream sand, and you have every right. But, oh, don't make that face. I'm angry at him too, but he doesn't look good."

Sandy gave something along the lines of a satisfied snort.

Jack sighed and flopped down on the golden island of dream sand. "Sandy, it just doesn't feel right leaving him like that. It feels cruel."

Slowly, Sandy pushed out a few more streams of sand into the night before sitting down beside him and patting his knee. The look on his face said, _There's nothing you can do._

Jack's lips twisted to one side. "I guess you're right." As he stood, Sandy put up a sleigh above his head. "You think I should talk to North?"

A firm nod.

"Okay. I'll catch you later. Make sure you bring those kids some sweet dreams!"

He got down to North and blurted his concern as soon as he burst into his private office.

"I think Pitch is dying!"

North wasn't looking at him. His eyes were glued to the floor in shock. Jack looked down and saw the twitching remains of a shattered dragon made of North's prototype ice, smashed by the heavy oak door. Jack coughed. "Oops."

North closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before spreading his hands and giving Jack a patient smile. "Yes?"

"Pitch," Jack started.

"Is dying?" North finished.

"Maybe not," Jack admitted, waving his staff and watching the dragon slowly knit itself back together due to his power. "But he doesn't look well."

He couldn't describe the relief he felt when North gestured to a stool in the corner and folded his hands in his lap. "What did you see?"

Jack dragged the seat forward and settled on it, carefully describing the slight change in Pitch's condition, how he had looked and sounded. The more he spoke of it though, the more he wondered if he was overreacting. He was talking about a king of shadows and darkness, a man who walked side by side with evil and found it companionable. Still, when he finished, North nodded understandingly.

"I think it is good you care," the white-bearded Guardian commented. "Even if Pitch is bad, you have compassion. Very good."

Jack waited for the "but" to come along and contradict his worries, but North just leaned forward, a jolly twinkle in his eyes.

"I have theory. I think he is sulking."

Jack blinked, and laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yes!" North insisted emphatically. "You have seen people physically change because they are dissatisfied by something, no?"

"I guess," Jack said, feeling a little silly.

"Or maybe the Nightmares took too much from him," North added gravely. His face lit up when the dragon rose from the floor on elegant wings, whole and spitting snowflakes. "Just wait, Jack. I'm sure it's nothing."

Jack's head agreed. His heart didn't.

* * *

The silence this time was unnerving.

Jack kept his staff alight with frost and blue light as he crept towards a different tunnel. He hadn't liked what he had seen five months ago. It had brought about a thread of guilt. Granted, that had only lasted for a few days, and then he had thrown himself into the wind without a care. Now that he had returned, he found the ugly reminder: Pitch was indeed wasting away from lack of fear to feed on.

"Pitch?"

His voice was so small, and it echoed quite impressively in the right areas.

"Pitch, get out here!"

The silence fell heavily after the echo died down. Jack stepped into the tunnel, but was immediately repelled as something heavy slammed into his stomach.

He skidded on his back, the weight still on him. Bony fingers delved into his wrists and forced them above his head. His staff clattered aside, and he howled as a knee pressed right into his ribcage. There was harsh breathing, and he looked up and saw dull gold eyes with black pupils blown wide so that the gold was merely a thin ring. The face he saw was not that of Pitch Black, but of something darker, something hungrier, something _desperate._

The mouth opened and sank down, and Jack waited for his flesh to be delved into, but it didn't happen.

A deep, gasping breath sounded by his ear, and he wildly twisted his head to see Pitch inhaling as though he had just come up for air after a long wait underwater. Jack reclaimed his senses as he realized that Pitch was feeding on his fear.

As Pitch inhaled, Jack felt some of his fear receding. His mind grew clearer by the second, to the point where he could think finally think calmly enough to do something about it.

Jack sucked in a breath and blew hard on Pitch's exposed, tendon-taught neck, creating biting whorls of ice that startled the man enough. Jack knocked his head into Pitch's, drove his free knee up into his stomach, and pushed the winded shade off of him. He scooped up his staff and was ridged with caution as he pointed it at Pitch, slowly circling him.

His fear returned with a snap, but he could not muster up anger of any kind with it. He stared at the fallen shade with wide blue eyes. "What the hell happened to you?"

Pitch scratched dull nails across the stone and slowly lifted his head, pushing himself into a crouch. His black robes pooled at his feet, and Jack heard soft neighs echo about the cavern. He looked around and saw Nightmares creeping to the edges of bridges, snorting and stamping anxiously. _Hungrily._

"Shit," Jack murmured when Pitch snarled hungrily into the earth. He backpedaled and lifted off into the air when Pitch lunged at him again, shooting for the exit. The Nightmares bucked wildly and flew after him. Jack shot out of the hole and paused to look down. The four-legged beasts were crowding forward, but as soon as their heads pushed out of the hole, a golden pulse spread over the ground, sending them into frantic cries and forcing them back down into the dark.

The wards had done their jobs.

As soon as Jack was sky high, he caught a fast-paced wind towards the Pole. He needed to have a serious chat with his pals.

* * *

"What do you mean, rabid with hunger?" Bunny scoffed, paintbrush poised just above the eggshell. He was always painting, _always_. "I just saw him two months ago and he looked fine."

"And I, last month," North added seriously, folding his hands. "How could it be possible he appears to be dying to you, healthy to us?"

"He's hiding it?" Jack suggested, resisting the urge to say _duh_. Why weren't any of them as concerned as he was? "Doesn't want to show you four his weakness? Probably feels he can get away with it with me. He was feeding on my fear, North. He was _hungry_, and I could see it."

The Guardian of Wonder sat back and folded his hands together contemplatively. Jack watched him warily, glad that the great man was considering his opinion seriously. At length, North murmured, "I see how he could hide bad condition, but this hunger you say…" He shook his head, beard rippling like a white ocean. "Is not possible. He is immortal, Jack, like us. Like you. We are all different, but concept is the same. Have you ever had hunger as a spirit?"

"No," Jack replied slowly. "Still doesn't explain why he was acting like that."

"To get a good scare outta ya, mate," Bunny snorted, kicking his large feet up on the table. "Probably did it to get a taste a' your fear. He likes doing that. And it worked, right?"

Jack was already shaking his head. "No, Bunny, this was different, I swear. It's like…like…" The words died on his lips and his eyes widened. "You say he doesn't have to consume fear to survive, but he does it anyway?"

"For _fun_," Bunny emphasized with a jab of his paintbrush, dripping bright yellow onto the rich wood of the table. North made a disapproving noise and reached over and wiped it off.

"He's been doing that for _centuries_ then, probably," Jack continued. "This is like withdrawal! I've seen it before. I hang around humans more than you. I've seen adults go through this. Drug addicts, alcoholics."

"If it is withdrawal," Tooth sighed, "then we should just let him ride it out. He'll recover."

"What if he can't?" Jack pressed. No, wait, he _knew_ Pitch wouldn't recover. Not without a source of fear. He would just wither away like his Nightmares. "We can't just let him become a shell."

"And why the bloody hell not?" Bunny snapped, fur ruffled in agitation. Jack didn't blame him. Pitch was a sore subject amongst all of them, even when they had the advantage over him. "You want us to let him out and, what, _feed_ so he can get stronger?"

Sandy, who had been listening quietly, joined in by flashing a myriad of symbols that made no sense to Jack, but Bunny was nodding emphatically. "Exactly. Sandy's right. There's still fear in the world. It's not like children, or adults for that matter, are becoming dumber than rocks and stickin' their noses into danger. Why do you care about what happens?"

_Why do I care? Oh, that's a great question. Shit, that's a really great question. That I don't have an answer to._

Jack growled, angered by the fact that he didn't know why he was pushing for this so hard. "Listen. When he fed, he…I felt my fear leaving. When I got away from him, it came back. Can he do that? Is that what he does to children?"

Sandy put forth a few symbols. A child in bed with a Nightmare prancing about her head. Pitch's tall, proud shadow coming forward and inhaling the Nightmare until there was nothing left.

Jack nodded. "So he lets the kids have the Nightmare so he can take fear, but then he takes the Nightmare and leaves for the night? Does that mean the kids have no fear the rest of the night? No dreams until the next night?"

Sandy waved his hand in a _sort of_ gesture.

"Then what's the problem?" Jack cried, throwing his arms wide.

"We can't just let him run around without checking up on him," Tooth protested. "And we can't watch over him all the time because we have jobs to do."

"Then let him send his Nightmares," Jack replied. "They can collect fear, I'm sure, and bring it back to him. He doesn't set a foot outside the wards."

Bunny was scowling at him, nose twitching uncomfortably.

Jack grinned slyly and said, "Why don't you take my shift then, Bunny? Show up on a day he's expecting me and see what happens?"

The Pooka blinked once, then returned the grin, though it was more of a grimace. "Let's go with the kid's plan. I'm in no mood to change my schedule."

Jack was surprised. Of all the Guardians, he had expected Bunny to fight him tooth and nail on this one. But he nodded his quiet thanks, and Bunny rolled his eyes as though he were surprised that Jack would think anything otherwise.

North shrugged. "Is good idea, then. We send notice next shift."

"No, we do it now," Jack said, standing. "What if he attacks you guys on the next shift? He seemed pretty far gone to me."

"You're really pushin' this, mate," Bunny warned, but he didn't sound too concerned. He seemed resigned to the fact that they couldn't let another spirit fall into madness, no matter what Pitch had done. Perhaps he saw it as an act of cruelty and just didn't want to be put in the same group as the Nightmare King.

"You will go?" North asked, surprised, eyebrows floating up. "After what he did today?"

"The sooner, the better," Jack insisted, recalling the incident. He shuddered violently. "Seriously, guys, it was gross. He was breathing down my neck and everything."

And that breath had been hot and labored and pained, and Jack had wondered all the while if it was his fault. He knew it was a twisted way for his mind to go, and hardly accurate what with the crimes Pitch had committed. But it had still…hurt to look at Pitch's broken figure and know that he was…

Tooth looked a little disturbed at the image of Pitch hanging over her, and Bunny's whiskers had drooped. It seemed he could have done without that information. Turning to North, he said quickly, "Tell him how to alter the wards. I don't want that bloody creep droolin' on my fur when I have to visit."

* * *

Jack's flight was slow and leisurely. It hadn't taken him that long to learn how to adjust the wards. Just a few symbols and the deed would be done.

When he entered the cavern, he was surprised to find Pitch standing tall by his dark globe. As Jack's pale feet touched down on the stone, Pitch glanced back and raised an eyebrow.

"Back so soon? Though I had scared you off for good."

"Can't get rid of me that easily," Jack replied with a smirk.

"A pity," Pitch intoned, turning back to the globe. He traced a few lights with bony fingers, and Jack stared. He seemed in a right mental state, but his body was clearly falling apart.

"Was it on purpose?"

Those fingers didn't stop moving. "You'll have to specify. I hate vagueness."

"Attacking me," Jack huffed. "Were you just doing it to scare me, or were you seriously hungry?"

"The beauty of immortals is that we have no hunger."

"Wrong," Jack snapped. "You were totally hungry."

Pitch turned gracefully, robe fanning out beneath him. "Look at me, Jack Frost. Do I appear to be starving?"

Jack wasn't fooled. Pitch was displaying himself with confidence, but that didn't change the fact that his appearance was still gaunt and sunken. Jack trailed his eyes down Pitch's neck to his sharp collar bone, then down the open slit of the robe. The cloth seemed rather loose around his chest. Pitch could clearly read Jack's face, because his smug look faded away to grim resignation, and he turned away.

"So it's not hunger," Jack cautiously put out there, "but withdrawal?"

Pitch craned his neck to the ceiling, voice faint. "Yes, I suppose. They do tax me so."

Jack ventured closer to hear. "What does?"

The Nightmare King spun quickly, forcing the nimble frost spirit to leap back on guard. "I cannot comprehend why you are still here. Did those fools sent you back to finish out your shift?"

_Ooooh, yeah._ "Right, no, um…do you…would you like to…"

Pitch was already turning and walking off the edge of the overhang. Jack's "Wait!" didn't help as he peered over. The Nightmare King was gone.

"Pitch!"

Silence.

Jack raked his fingers through his hair. Now was not the time to get tongue tied. He was here for a reason. As he floated up to the entrance, he called behind him, "Just gather your Nightmares, okay?"

He stepped outside into the dead clearing and immediately went to the first tree. He pulled the piece of chalk North had given him from his pocket and began scrawling a new symbol over the elegant one which was written there. When he stepped back and looked his work over, he winced. His was a sloppy imitation of elegant swirls and delicate lines that Tooth had put in place almost immediately after Pitch had been dragged down. Still, it would have to do.

Jack ran back and stuck his feet in the hole, then yelped when he saw gold glaring up at him. He hovered over the hole and waited for Pitch to say something.

"…The wards have changed."

Jack swallowed and nodded. "We decided that you can…send out your Nightmares without us having to watch out for them. If you can use them to collect fear, they can come back here and give it to you. That's what you need, right?"

The golden orbs disappeared immediately.

Jack frowned and leaned forward. He would admit, sticking his face in a dark hole was a very stupid thing to do, but he was surprised that Pitch hadn't commented on the generous adjustment. He turned and listened. A soft hissing sound was bubbling up from somewhere down there. It grew louder and louder until it became familiar, and Jack jerked back just in time as the hole exploded with black dream sand.

Vicious shrieks and whinnies echoed about as the Nightmares took shape, black as night, elegant as calligraphy, restless as the wild creatures they imitated. Their eyes blazed with internal golden fire as they then leapt up in the air, hooves finding purchase on the dead branches of the surrounding trees to give them an extra push. Then they scattered, tossing flowing manes in the wind and racing away from the sun.

_I guess it's always night somewhere._

Jack glanced back down. The hole was nothing more than a dark pit, and there was not a hint of an eclipse to be found.


	2. Pull Out the Old Ways

**Pull Out the Old Ways**

The snowflakes danced about Jack's fingers before he pushed his hand out. The gust of snow swirled and shot down straight down and picked up one of the yeti who was carefully brushing a muscled reindeer. The yeti (Jack was pretty sure his name was Wes) floundered in the air, eyes wide with confusion until they settled on Jack who was perched on the roof of the stables.

Jack snickered at the warbled threats flung his way, then flicked his fingers, dropping Wes in a large snow bank. He beat a hasty retreat out of fear that the retaliation might involve the flinging of reindeer waste. His flight took him back inside the warmth of North's Workshop. He skirted around the globe, whose lights were shining strong, then moved on to the main area.

The yetis – and elves by default, though they were only messing mindlessly with decorations and broken toys – were in full swing, carefully assembling popular toys and paying astute attention to the delicate decorating process. The air was suddenly alive with uniform jingling as elves began flooding the workstations, bearing plates of cookies and mugs of eggnog.

Jack circled overhead a few times before settling lazily on a rafter beam. He liked hanging at North's the best because of the energy, the life. Sandy's island was very solitary, Bunny's giant stone eggs were no fun to play with, and while Tooth's palace was lively, her fairies were too hyperactive. Plus, Jack had a feeling she'd kill him if he ever tried to freeze any of the delicate intricacies of her domain for a little fun.

His cool eyes spotted North discussing a new project with Phil, pointing up overhead in a tall gesture. North then spotted Jack and called, "You have watch today, my friend! You should be shooing, yes?"

Jack groaned as he floated down to him. "It's not like I'm going to be late or anything."

North shook his head and turned back to the blueprints.

_Booooring,_ Jack's mind supplied as he turned around, looking for a way to amuse himself. In all honesty, he was hoping to get out of the watch today. He was pretty sure no one had told Pitch it was his idea to let the Nightmares run free, but he knew Pitch was way to sharp to not suspect him.

With a final glance back at his jolly friend, Jack took to the outdoors and caught a breeze.

* * *

He was always amazed at how lukewarm Pitch's lair felt. It certainly wasn't cold enough to his liking, but the bit of warmth that existed didn't bother him in the slightest. However, something was off. The ever pervading silence that Jack was usually greeted by still remained, yes, but it didn't feel…right.

Not that silence usually should have a feel to it, but Jack was pretty used to the silence in Pitch's lair being still and lifeless. Now it felt like it was alive. He didn't know how it could be like that, but the quiet just didn't sit right with him this time around.

He had a right to be cautious.

The moment he touched down, he felt something wrap tightly around his feet, and a hot, searing brand of fear and terror ripped through his stomach. He yelled and slammed his staff down, freezing the shadows that were suddenly lunging at him with thick tendrils and hungry hollow eyes. He had never seen these things before, and they certainly weren't made of the dark dream sand of Pitch's design.

Angrily, he swung his staff out and blasted a large wave of creatures that were swooping down on him. They shattered when he slammed his weapon into it, but more rose up, swirling, the silence no longer silent but filled with shrieks far more terrible than those of the Nightmares.

He was doing fine on his own, growing more enraged by the second at the thought that he had allowed this, had allowed Pitch the chance to gain his strength, but he missed the snaking shadows that wrapped around his wrist and _squeezed._

Jack grunted and found himself staring into white, burning holes of emptiness.

_No!_

Now was not the time to allow fear to bubble up in his throat. He pulled his staff in front of him and roared, and felt that familiar crack of lightening laced with frost flow through him, out the staff, ending the shadows which surrounded him.

He took a moment to breathe, but it was too short, as he saw more melting down the walls, more burning eyes staring at him, hungering after him.

"Bring it," he snarled, then skipped back as something rose up directly in front of him. His eyes widened. "_Pitch_."

The Boogeyman clearly didn't hear his exhaled name, for his face was turned upward, and though Jack couldn't see his eyes, he could see the tension in his frame. Pitch raised one hand and swept it across, and the shadows shrieked and lifted up off the walls, writhing about each other, but they did not venture closer.

"Be gone," Pitch hissed, and they dispersed and fled down the tunnels, leaving the lair in that familiar still silence.

Jack shifted, and Pitch whirled, mouth fixed in a sneer, but upon seeing the frost spirit, all the tension seemed to flow from his body. "Oh."

"_Oh?_" Jack repeated, getting riled up. "That's what you have to say?" And his anger was divided equally, because while the shadows had been Pitch's creations – he assumed – Jack had definitely provided the man with a food source.

Pitch became lax, a blank gaze on his face as him glided past him. "Well, I was wondering what could have riled them up, but I see it was of no concern."

"Hey!" Jack raced after him as he glided over the floor and down a tunnel that wasn't as dark as the rest. "Hold up, what the hell was that?" He glanced up and was surprised to see that the ceiling was far taller than he had expected, and when he squinted, he could make out elegant, yet worn carvings etched into the stone. It wasn't a tunnel, but a corridor.

"I do believe I've told you before to clarify your questions." Pitch paused in front of a door that had a warm glow leaking from beneath it. The doorframe was covered in raised spirals, and the handle was a curved circlet with similar spirals embedded in it. Jack didn't even know that there were doors like this around here, but he couldn't allow himself to become distracted.

Through gritted teeth, he growled, "Those weren't your usual Nightmares. They weren't even made of dream sand. What were they?"

Pitch considered his words, then said lowly with a small smirk, "Fearlings."

Jack had never heard of them, but Pitch was already pushing open the heavy wooden door and stepping in. Jack was surprised to see that the warm light flooding the tunnel originated from a fireplace. He, to Pitch's displeasure, poked his head in and took a look around.

A few half-bookshelves ran around the room, full of books with cracked spines and yellowing pages. There were classics and books of knowledge, many in various languages. A small writing desk was pushed up against the far wall to the left; it didn't look like it got much use, but it was kept in a neat, orderly fashion. A nice coffee table split the space between two large arm chairs, all standing on a thick, richly embroidered rug. The golden patterns stood out on the black base, and Jack found his eyes tracing the lines before raising them to see the whole picture for what it was: a small sitting room.

"Didn't know you had something other than doom and gloom around here," Jack said with surprise.

A warm hand clamped down on the back of his neck and flung him out. He bumped against the wall and immediately touched the skin Pitch had been in contact with, wondering at the warmth. He was used to the warmth he felt from his fellow Guardians, but this feeling was rather different. He looked at Pitch's hands, wondering if he could get away with just reaching out and brushing those fingers…

Pitch, however, snapped, "I'm busy."

_Suspicious, much?_ Jack pointed his staff at him. "You do realize that North gave me permission to investigate any weird activity, right?"

"Oh, yes," Pitch lilted, leaning forward. "Having a fire lit in a quiet room is quite disturbing." His tone hardened. "Stay out."

Jack was about ready to barge into the room, but a soft, feminine voice made him pause.

"It's quite alright if he comes in for a listen."

Pitch's lip curled up in a sneer and he didn't budge. Jack watched as a lithe figure, almost as tall as the Nightmare King, rose up from one of the chairs and turned slowly. He found that his breath was stolen quite easily by the small, heart-shaped face; the black hair curled close to her shoulders; the full, pink lips; the dark eyes half hidden by thick lashes. She was petite in the black dress that hugged her, and she raised a pale hand to him with a soft smile.

Jack took a step forward, but Pitch's voice cut through the fog that was slowly beginning to envelope his mind.

"Unfortunately, he is not one for you to use. Should he go missing, the interlopers upstairs would throw a fit."

Jack blinked. His head felt much clearer now, and the woman seemed a little disappointed. He didn't like the look. He didn't want her to be disappointed, but Pitch seemed to let out an exasperated sigh. "As you can see, I have company, Frost, and I do hope you will not keep me from her."

Jack flushed. "Does North know you have visitors?"

Did that smarmy bastard just roll his eyes? "No, though I suppose you will go tell him, won't you?"

The woman in black smiled kindly, easing Jack's heart. "It's quite alright, dear. I'm well acquainted with Nicholas. Perhaps I should visit him."

Pitch seemed to find this amusing, as he chuckled darkly. "Well, Frost? Shall you pretend to be mature and listen to the grownups talk?"

Jack grimaced and twirled his staff. "No thanks. Think I'll just float around until you're done."

"I won't be long," the woman promised.

Jack found himself being shoved out of the corridor by shadows pushed straight from Pitch's hand. He turned to glare, but the Nightmare King was already shutting the door behind him, cancelling out the golden light, save a small sliver along the floor.

Jack did as he promised, floating around the lair, taking high dives from the tallest slanted bridges and weaving his way through the hanging cages and clinging stalagmites. He iced the walls, slicked up the pathways, raised his staff and caused it to snow in a perfect circle right in the middle of the floor. By the time he was finished making a snowman, he wondered if he could get away with putting icicles on the cages. If the light caught them in the right way, they'd glisten like candles. He chuckled as he poked rocks into the snowman's head.

_Yeah, Pitch could do to brighten up the place. It's a wonder he's even got a lady here—_

"Are you quite finished yet?"

He spun and found Pitch looking at his creation with all the disgust and loathing in the world. Jack cast him a lopsided grin. "Just about. You like?"

The expression didn't change. "No."

Jack caught movement in the corner of his eye and saw the woman in black moving along a bridge. _Was that one of the ones I iced?_ He shot up there and saw that, yes, it definitely was, and holy shit, she was slipping—

Jack caught her easily, marveling in how thin her waste was in his arm. She looked up and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"N-no, no," Jack stuttered, helping her stand upright. "It was my fault. I was just playing around, sorry."

"Well, well," a voice breathed too close for comfort. Jack skipped back from the looming shade. "Isn't this cute. The little frost spirit is flustered by a woman?"

"Oh, don't tease him," the woman said, continuing her walk towards a grate of pale light.

"But it's simply adorable," Pitch crooned, sidling up to Jack's side and leering down at him. The woman didn't seem displeased that Pitch was mocking Jack. She continued on to the grate and waved a hand. The bars disappeared and she stepped up into it, tall and proud.

"It was wonderful seeing you," she said. "Expect another visit from me soon." To Jack, she nodded, and then vanished in the pale light.

_...Okay, the hell just happened?_

He turned to Pitch, but the man was already melting into the shadows, and appeared on the cavern floor a moment later. Jack flew down after him. "Hey, wait! Who was she? Friend of yours? How does she know North?"

Pitch slowed to a stop right at the edge of the ring of snow, and Jack's words died on his lips. How had he not seen it before? The rigid back, the raised shoulders, the alert angle of the head.

"Did she…does she make you nervous?" Jack cautiously asked.

"Does she make _you_ nervous?" Pitch threw back casually, staring at the snowman. Probably glaring.

Jack laughed, thinking of the woman's eyes, her smile. "Nope." He hopped up on his staff with balanced ease. "Why does she make you nervous?"

"In what way did I imply that she made me so?"

"Your posture."

Pitch spun and advanced on him fast, startling Jack into tipping backwards. An ashy hand shot out and grabbed his staff, righting him but forcing his face close to the Nightmare King's. Hot breath ghosted over his cheeks as Pitch hissed, "Perhaps you should take note, then."

Jack blinked, and Pitch was gone. The frost spirit remained on his perch, wondering what about that woman could possibly have frightened _the_ Nightmare King. Well, what was left of him.

_That's it!_

Clearly, the woman was a shade or spirit of some kind, like them. She had some sort of power, perhaps. Maybe Pitch was afraid that she would take advantage of him, overpower him somehow.

"You feel vulnerable."

He didn't think the whisper could be heard, but clearly it was when Pitch stepped up from behind him and stood at his side. Jack was getting used to these quick appearances, but that didn't mean it didn't make his heart jump every time it happened.

Pitch didn't speak, didn't even look at him for a moment. Jack used that moment to look him over. He had clearly gained something from the fear the Nightmares had brought, because his arms and legs were not quite so thin anymore, and his collar bone was not protruding as sharply as before. When he turned to look at Jack, he saw that some of the color had come back to the eclipses in Pitch's eyes.

"I do." The words were spoken with quiet silkiness. "Though not for long. My strength is returning. However, I am not cautious without reason."

Jack swallowed when the man leaned over and breathed quietly at his neck. The heat exhaled upon his skin was uncomfortable at the very moment, but he couldn't move. And he felt no fear.

"Nothing," Pitch murmured there, unmoving. "I taste the remnants of fear towards me, but nothing towards her." He stepped back, all the way into the darkness until it was only his eyes. "Believe me, Jack Frost, when I tell you that you should muster up fear for her. I do not give advice lightly."

The eyes closed and darkness remained.

* * *

Jack was a little surprised that he kept his own mouth shut about the Fearlings. He just assumed they were another source of power that Pitch possessed, yet hadn't used on them at the time of their battle. Perhaps it was a backup for him.

He also held his tongue about woman in black. Pitch was right: he couldn't find any fear for her. There was nothing wrong with her. He hadn't sensed anything from her, even if she was a spirit of some sort. He didn't mention the visitor to any of his fellow Guardians either, reporting that his shift had been a dull one, though he did mention that he had put a touch of snow in Pitch's lair. They felt a little better hearing that Pitch had tolerated it. It meant he was too weak to muster up the strength to do something about it.

"He is looking healthier," Jack added. Tooth looked indifferent, Bunny appeared to not have heard him at all, but Sandy and North nodded slightly.

"Is good," North agreed. "We are not animals to let him waste in darkness. And taking the momentary fear from children is good for them too."

So it was that they knew it was alright to continue with the few Nightmares Pitch still possessed, and Sandy promised to be more attentive to his dream sand so Pitch could not find a way to steal it.

It was two months later that Tooth came to Jack's quiet pond in Burgess with a plea on her lips.

"…Say what?"

"_Please?_" the vibrant fairy begged, darting in close to stare pleadingly at him with violet eyes akin to the cosmos. "It's just one time. Do me this one favor? I had forgotten I had already scheduled this night out with my fairies."

"Why do _I_ have to pick up your shift? Ask someone else!"

"Sandy just did his last month. Bunny is next, and I don't want him to have a back-to-back, and North is busy. Oh, Jack, do this for me?"

Jack knew he couldn't deny her. The Guardian had given him what he hadn't known he had: memories. He sighed heavily with resignation, earning a back-breaking hug. She was stronger than she looked.

When he appeared in Pitch's lair, he was more cautious this time. Finally, exiting the tunnel and coming upon the cavern, he found that it was not all silent. Whispers, hisses, soft shifts in the darkness were coming from somewhere down below. Staff at the ready, he descended, knowing that any Fearling which reached for him would not live long.

He stepped onto the crumbled railing of a tilted bridge and looked down. It was Pitch, standing bare-chested in the middle of the floor, one hand drawing a circle in the air. Around him, darkness turned, and it wasn't made of sand.

_Guess he's got his power back,_ Jack mused, leaning on his staff to watch.

Pitch beckoned with one graceful hand and allowed some of the shadows to surge forward and wrap around him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and a glistening sheen of sweat covered his ashy skin. Jack didn't know why the man looked so focused. He was just controlling what he usually controlled, right? Aside from that one incident where the Nightmares dragged him away after his defeat, he shouldn't have been afraid, right?

His staff had slowly been icing the stone beneath it without his notice, and he slipped with it, making a startled noise.

Pitch turned slowly, as though he had been expecting company, but upon seeing Jack's surprised face, he stiffened. The shadows around his hand suddenly went wild and shot up his arm. Pitch voiced his displeasure and snarled at them. The darkness froze and slinked back into the mass that was circling around him, and the mass in turn dropped flat and retreated in all directions until there was nothing left in the clearing.

Jack floated down with an apology on his lips, but Pitch only turned and headed for the curious corridor that had held the beautiful door and the cozy sitting room. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Jack grinned at the venom that dripped from the simple inquiry as he followed. "Surprised? Tooth asked me to take her shift. She's busy."

"_Really,_" Pitch drawled disinterestedly, passing the sitting room without a glance. The corridor was lit dimly this time with burning torches, though not many. He continued on past a few more doors of similar design before stopping and pushing into a room. The light that slinked into the hallway was warm and steady. Jack took a step in and laughed.

"A bedroom?"

"This place is neither for my rest or pleasure," Pitch informed him, circling around the foot of the bed that stood beneath a hanging lamp which emitted a not-too-bright glow. It was a very small bedroom, and Jack could see that it wasn't used at all. The bed was neatly made, a wardrobe across from it, and there was a mirror at its side, though when Jack stepped in front of it, he could just barely make out his reflection due to the thick layer of dust which blanketed it.

He turned at the sound of a rustle, just in time to watch Pitch stretch to the side with raised arms, displaying taught muscles which rippled beneath grey skin.

Good _God_, his mouth was dry.

He almost laughed as his eyes traced the outline of muscles around Pitch's abdomen. He wasn't sure if he was seeing things, but he was pretty sure that there were darker lines crossing the skin there. Scars? His eyes then latched hungrily onto the scathingly white towel that ran across Pitch's neck, shoulders, torso—

"I suppose it can't be helped," Pitch muttered, causing Jack to snap his eyes to his face, flushed. Pitch looked over at him with a sneer, clearly having not caught the open-mouthed stare he had been receiving mere seconds ago. "Shall I make tea?"

It took a moment for Jack's brain to catch up to his mouth. "W-what?"

"A drink, Frost," Pitch said from behind the towel when he passed it over his face. "Do you want tea?"

"You gonna poison me?" Jack ground out suspiciously.

"Fine. I retract my offer," Pitch replied smoothly, crouching gracefully in front of a trunk and lifting its lid. "Honestly, boy, you haven't the slightest understanding of being a good host."

Jack bristled. "I'm not a boy."

"You are," Pitch insisted calmly, pulling a shirt over his head. The faint scars disappeared beneath the soft waves of cloth. "A mere child compared to me, or any of your pathetic companions."

"Watch what you say about them, Pitch," Jack spat, staff sparking angrily. "I can still whoop your ass."

Pitch rose up, towering over him, face fixed in a dangerous glare. "You _dare_ threaten me in my own home?"

Jack had to drag his eyes away from the patch of skin visible in the slit of the shirt over the shade's chest. He frowned, taking in Pitch's expression, and said, "You look tired."

"Your attempt to change the subject is entirely pathetic."

"I'm serious. You ever sleep?"

"Shall I lecture you once more on the advantages of being what we are?" Pitch dropped the towel and brushed past him, leaving. Jack tailed him, still insistent.

"You just look like you haven't had proper rest for a long while. You do know that we can sleep, right?"

"Of course we can sleep," Pitch snapped, pausing in his step to throw Jack an irritated glare before continuing on. "Just as we can eat, gain wounds, retain scars, feel pain." His flow of words paused before he chuckled. "Well, the latter three are unavoidable in battle. However, sleep and nourishment are not required."

"But you feel refreshed after it, right?"

Pitch stopped at the edge of the corridor just before the open cavern. His hand traced the stone wall momentarily before slipping from it. "I…have not slept in a long while."

Jack came to stand at his side and glanced up. Pitch looked down at him with half-lidded eyes, and Jack prompted, "How long?"

Pitch's eyes closed. "Centuries." As soon as he spoke the word, he opened his eyes and glared at Jack. "Now get out."

Jack took a few steps into the open before his mouth got away from him again. "So what were you doing with the Fearlings?"

"What did it look like?"

"I dunno. Practice."

Pitch gestured with an open palm, a "there you have it" gesture.

Jack wasn't finished. "Why aren't you practicing with the Nightmares?"

"There isn't enough sand left for me to feel well-protected, so I must resort to my old methods."

"You used those…things before the dream sand?"

Pitch's mouth curved into a Cheshire-esque grin. "This seems like a conversation to be held over a cup of tea."

Jack considered it, then nodded. "Okay, then. Let's do it."

Pitch chuckled darkly, sending shivers down Jack's spine. "Frost. Surely you heard me earlier. That offer is no longer valid." And he vanished.


	3. Let's Get Together

**Author's Note:** This is the point in the story where I introduce characters in worldly legends and mythology. The Guardians are also mythology, but they are just the most prominent. Kudos to you if you recognize a vague name or creature I throw in. I did a minimum amount of research, so it's probably not going to be completely accurate.

* * *

**Let's Get Together**

Jack waited impatiently for his regular shift to come around. In the meantime, he preoccupied himself with causing mischief.

Jamie, while older, still believed vividly in the Guardians, and in Jack. His friends held the same strength of belief, never writing off the battle with Pitch as a dream. Jack had made it a point to visit them frequently, which only strengthened their belief and deepened their friendship. It wasn't any trouble at all. They lived in Burgess. He lived in Burgess (or what constituted as living).

Unfortunately, Pitch Black also lived in Burgess. This small detail poked and prodded the back of Jack's mind every time he messed around in the town. Knowing that his greatest enemy resided just over that ridge should have unnerved him, but it only made the temptation to pop over all the more pressing.

When his shift arrived, Jack whooped into the wind and shot over the trees, glad to have stayed nearby that week. He dove down the black hole and came out in the cavern, only to recoil immediately in the shadows, seeking their protection for once.

Down below, there was a small gathering. Guests of Pitch's, by the looks of it, all seated on comfortable rock formations off to the side, some with steaming cups in their hands. Jack recalled the offer of tea and scowled but floated to the next bridge to get a closer look.

He was no stranger to spirits of the dark side, but he was surprised to see that some of these people had familiar faces. Dark fairies fluttered delicately above the ground; a man he had once had the unpleasant chance to mess with was discussing alchemy with a creature with bat-like wings tucked neatly behind him; a trio of young, pretty witches he was _sure_ he had spied deep in a secluded Massachusetts forest were conversing with Pitch.

The laughter floated up, and Jack frowned a little. When was the last time he and the Guardians had all gotten together just to enjoy each other's company? So lost in his thoughts was he that he completely missed Pitch quietly excusing himself from the company of the witches and melting into the shadows. Not a moment later, when he actually noticed Pitch's absence, he felt hot breath ghosting over the shell of his ear, a warm hand splaying across his side.

He jerked away, but Pitch caught a hold of his sweater and dragged him over the edge, floating down on quiet shadows. "It's not nice to snoop, Frost."

The others looked up at the uninvited guest and were immediately on edge. Jack twisted out of Pitch's grasp and flexed his fingers over his staff, ready for anything, but Pitch raised his hands peaceably to both parties.

"He is the one I mentioned earlier," he commented lightly, and the dark company seemed to immediately relax. Jack couldn't help but feel a little insulted. Could these beings really hold so little regard for him? Was he truly nothing but a trifle in power?

The man who had been speaking of alchemy scrutinized Jack, then cried, "Ah-ha! You, I know. Yes, you! You froze my potions! Do you know how long it took me to brew those? I was on the verge of a new discovery."

"Calm yourself, Faust," Pitch chuckled. "You have an eternity of new discoveries ahead of you."

Faust scratched his grey beard and shrugged reluctantly, but not before tossing Jack a nasty glare. Jack didn't think he seemed like the type to hang with these darker creatures, but North had taught him that no one was as they appeared to be at first glance.

The creature with bat wings stood and stretched, eyeing Jack through his unruly mop of brown hair. He was handsome, of clear skin and fine physique, but Jack caught sight of an upside down crucifix wrapped tightly around his neck with what looked like very flexible barbed wire, and he watched as the stranger shoved hands with claw-like fingernails into his pockets. "I think it's time we took our leave."

Pitch graciously extended a hand. "Then by all means."

The trio of witches curtsied and giggled and vanished in a gust of smoke and mist. The alchemist trekked up a staircase and disappeared through an archway. The dark fairies bowed lowly to the Nightmare King and soared high before pushing through a grate of dim light. The man with bat wings raked rust-red eyes over Jack and smirked.

Something knifed through Jack's gut, and he unconsciously clawed at his hoodie with one hand. There was a heat pooling in his chest, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to tear it out or embrace it.

"_Irdu_." Pitch sounded bored as the name slipped past his lips. "Please. He is not your type anyway."

The rust-red eyes slipped away, and Jack gasped. He hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath. He felt like he was going to heave up a lunch that was never there. The grin that slipped over the dark creature's face was feral and dangerous, and now that Jack wasn't being held by whatever power it had wielded over him, he felt like he should be running. Running from him, or towards him though, he didn't know.

"Quite true, but you can't blame a guy for trying."

Jack found that his voice, while not as smooth and velvety as Pitch's, was just as frighteningly enticing. He looked over and saw that something in Pitch's posture had changed. It was taller, more commanding, more intimidating.

The creature named Irdu lifted his hands in mock surrender – Jack caught a glimpse of those claws and shivered – before spreading leathery wings and launching, a powerful gust produced on his downward stroke. When he was gone, Jack descended a few feet away from Pitch. The Nightmare King had relaxed slightly and finally acknowledged Jack. "Well?"

Jack shrugged. "Nothing. You like having guests?"

"I do _not_." The words, while insistent, were tired. Pitch's expression smoothed out into an unreadable mask, and his golden eyes narrowed. He crooked one finger. "Come here."

Jack gave him a skeptical look. "You crazy?"

"Have you no faith in your strength?" Pitch chuckled. "Interesting."

Who was this guy to talk about strength? "Please. I could beat you six ways to Sunday with one hand on my staff."

Pitch grinned cruelly. "No need for innuendo, Frost."

Jack only had to run over his own words in his head once before letting out a silent gasp and turning horribly red. "Whoa, _no_—"

"Come here or get out."

Fingers tightening on his staff (it would take him a few hours to stop thinking of it like _that_, he just knew it), he stepped forward until he was a few inches from Pitch. The tall shade leaned down, brushing past his cheek, and Jack knew his lips were hovering over his neck, and _oh God, oh God, oh God, what am I doing?_

"Good," Pitch murmured after a moment. "You hold fear for them. Especially for Irdu. That is good." He pulled back and walked away. "See that it stays that way."

* * *

Jack hated Pitch. Hated, hated, _hated_ him. And yet he sat up in the middle of the night exactly one week after that shift, slid quietly down from the tree he was roosting in, and walked through the woods all the way to Pitch's hole.

He quietly let himself in and paused just before the openness of the cavern, listening. It was very quiet, but he heard it after a few seconds of strained listening: the breathing. He stepped quietly, because it was very nearby. After crossing a bridge or two and ducking beneath an archway, he found Pitch sitting on a rock in a quiet, soft white beam of light surrounded by a few Nightmares.

Pitch noticed him immediately, eclipse eyes widening, then narrowing. A cruel smirk raced onto his face. "Have a bad dream, Frost?"

"Nope." Jack approached curiously, stilling when the nightmares whinnied threateningly and pawed the ground. "Just feeling a little restless. Couldn't sleep."

"You actually try to sleep?" Pitch scoffed, putting his palm forth to allow one of his creations to nuzzle him. "Interesting. The once-human frost spirit, trying to be human once more."

Jack shook his head, watching Pitch close his eyes and breathe. "You feeding?"

"I do not feed," Pitch murmured, eyes still closed. "I _indulge_."

The word "indulge" was dragged out with a smooth rumble, as though Pitch were tending to it lovingly to show how much he enjoyed it. He still didn't look quite right. Healthier, yes, but not like he did when he had stood up against the Guardians.

"What's the problem, then?" Jack wondered aloud.

Golden slits appeared as Pitch glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"You still don't look like yourself. Are the Nightmares not gathering enough fear?"

Those slits widened into wondrous orbs of darkened curiosity. Pitch's mouth moved slowly. "You are the strangest frost spirit I have ever met."

"I'm the only—"

"You most certainly are _not_," Pitch interrupted with somewhat of a snort. "Perhaps the most prominent, but not the only. Though I suppose you are the only former human."

_You learn something new every day,_ Jack thought with rising excitement, making a mental note to search for frost spirits next time he took a turn about the world to bring blizzards. He had never encountered one such as himself in his entire life, both as a human and as an immortal. "Sweet. But seriously, why do you not look like how you used to?"

It was strange. One moment they were having a semi-casual conversation, and the next, Pitch's entire demeanor changed and he looked, if anything, more tired than ever. Those golden eyes dimmed, and Jack wasn't sure if that was his doing, or Pitch's own.

The whisper was _weak_. "You know nothing of what I used to look like."

Jack stepped closer. The Nightmares forced him to back off.

Pitch was like stone, unmoving. Then he said in a very placid done, "I shall explain it this way: feeding off of the fear they bring to me is like serving someone a dish that has cooled drastically."

Jack smirked. "I'm afraid I don't get that reference."

Pitch scowled. "Do level with me, Frost. It's as if someone has taken away most of the nourishment and then served the dish. Do you understand now?"

"Fresh is good, got it. I'll talk to North about it."

Pitch sat up a little straighter, and Jack had to laugh at the bewildered look that spread across his ashy face. "You? Why would you?"

"Hey, I did it once before. No problem in doing it again."

Jack lifted up and turned, ready to leave, but a hand, warm and real, clamped down on his wrist and dragged him back. Pitch invaded his space, crowding him against the wall, and he said, "_You_ convinced them to let the Nightmares run free? _You?_"

"Geez, don't sound so disbelieving." Jack tried to throw his usual cockiness in behind his words, but with Pitch sending warmth through all of his body, and his breath and scent – midnight mist, a dark forest beneath moonlight just after the rainfall – filling his nostrils, it was a miracle Jack could find words at all.

"You, you, _you_," Pitch was saying over and over again. "Why _you?_" His grip was tightening on Jack's wrist to the point where Jack thought he was going to _break him_, and his fear was rising and Pitch was leaning in again and _smelling_ him, dammit, and, "You, why you?"

Jack managed to get out, "I don't like vague questions."

He gasped as Pitch pushed off of him faster than he could blink and practically attached himself to the opposite wall. The Nightmares stood nearby, nickering softly, waiting for their master to return so they could serve him.

Pitch's face settled into stone. "Get. Out."

* * *

Jack called the meeting this time, and to his surprise, none of his friends seemed to irritated that he had. Tooth ventured so far as to suggest that they should schedule regular get-togethers, and Sandy flashed images of activities they could do during those times. Bunny mentioned that he wouldn't mind a good competition once in a while, and North laughed loudly that he could best Bunny in just about anything they went at.

Jack stared warmly at the relaxing banter flying around the table for a few minutes before he recalled why he had wanted them here in the first place. His staff tapped the table, sending ice along the edge until they all looked at him expectantly.

"So I was thinking that maybe we should let Pitch out without us having to watch him." He had been expecting a violent explosion of protest, but all he was met with was quiet stares. He continued. "He's gotten better, but he's still not…_well_."

"And you care, _why_?" Bunny asked, ears bristling with annoyance.

Jack knew the Guardian of Hope would put up the most resistance, so he set his mouth in a firm line and retorted, "We can't just keep him caged like an animal."

"You got one half of that phrase right, mate: _animal_. That's all he is."

Jack rose out of his seat and pressed his hands to the table imploringly. "You know it's not right."

"It's not like he can't leave his lair. We'll just be alerted to when he goes, and we'll find him!"

"Yeah, and hound him every step of the way! How is that right? Plus, it'll distract you from your jobs. We don't need to keep watch over him like this."

"Jack," North said, trying to settle both parties, "you do not know what Pitch has done. You are young," and he raised his hands in surrender when Jack growled, "which is not necessarily bad thing, but you don't know him like we know. We have seen him at his worst."

"I thought his worst was when we all fought him," Jack replied honestly. "Why else would the Man in the Moon have made me a Guardian?"

"That was at a time when we didn't know what we were dealing with," Tooth corrected. "We didn't know what his new powers would bring. The black sand took us by surprise. But what he used before the sand…"

"You mean the Fearlings?" Jack asked. He immediately knew he had brushed upon a subject that he wasn't supposed to know about, because everyone at the table stiffened.

Tooth's hands flew to her mouth. "Where did you hear about those?"

"Hear about? I saw them."

The others were immediately on their feet, and North was calling for his sabers. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Bunny snapped, foot poised to stomp open a tunnel.

They were staring – oh, God, they were staring at him, and Jack could feel his throat closing up because they were giving him the look that they had given him when he had abandoned them, when he hadn't realized what he had done, when it had been an accident—

"Jack?" North pressed.

Jack was already climbing the air.

* * *

His shout disturbed the living shadows lurking along the walls. The Nightmares that were prancing across the bridges in boredom immediately swarmed him, but he batted them lightly away with his staff, letting his frosty energy leak out as a warning. He shouted again.

"_Pitch!_ Get your ass out here right _now!_"

"Silence!" A rough hand spun him just as he touched down, and he threw the Nightmare King's glare right back at him. "Why are you here?"

"I thought you let the others know about the Fearlings."

Pitch's harsh stare slowly melted to alarm. "You never told them?"

"I thought they—" Jack started, but Pitch was already pacing away, muttering to himself.

"I _knew_ it was odd, but I never believed…" He spun on Jack, furious. "Do you realize what you've _done_?"

Jack made an internal observation as he tried to vocalize that he was actually _sorry_, when he didn't quite know what he had done wrong. He noted that, when he was accused in this sort of manner, he grew tongue tied and his brain shut down and all he could do was stammer as he stammered now: "I-I don't know, I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry!"

A fierce cry made them turn as the rest of the Guardians bounded into the cavern, leaping nimbly and flying down to face Pitch. "Jack, get away from him!" North shouted, brandishing his sabers. Pitch skipped back, and Jack noticed the shadows creeping forward.

"Where are they, Pitch?" Bunny demanded, boomerangs cocked. "Where are the Fearlings?"

Pitch bared his teeth in a vicious grin. "Frightened, rabbit?"

"Not in the least," Bunny snarled, and North stepped forward.

"No tricks, Pitch. You should have never touched those _things_ again!"

Jack could only step away from both sides, though he kept his eyes glued to Pitch, whose form was growing more rigid and defensive by the second.

"You don't know what's happening, North," Pitch said lowly. "I need these. I have abided by your pathetic rules. I have kept to this home, though I haven't even a choice with those blasted wards scribbled across my trees. The last thing I need is you dogging my every step."

Sandy nodded emphatically, face grim as he held his golden dream sand at the ready.

Pitch effectively ignored him. "I need them."

"No, you don't." North took a step forward, lowering his swords. "Kozm—"

Something went wrong.

Jack didn't know what North was trying to say, but he was clearly going to say the wrong thing, because Pitch's pupils dilated and he seemed to stop breathing.

The Fearlings came, roaring, shrieking, and Jack could see their eyes burning for the Guardians, so he did the only thing he could do and leapt between the blackness and his friends and pushed his power out. The resulting flash of ice lightning was blinding, but Jack found he could tolerate it, and he watched as the Fearlings were disintegrated into nothing. When the light died, Pitch stood there, looking a little less angry and a little more irritated.

"It seems I still have to work on that," he hissed.

North put his boot down heavily. "No. An explanation is needed. _Now._"

Pitch stared darkly at the great man, then his gaze slid to Jack. "I suppose you've been stupid enough to also keep from them the fact that I've had visitors."

Sandy threw up an exclamation point while Bunny roared in disbelief, "Visitors?"

Pitch held up his hands with a smirk. "Don't get your tail in a puff. I will tell you what you need to know, but perhaps you should ask your resident frost spirit first."

Jack felt his throat close up as eyes turned to him. He glared at Pitch, who was examining his nails innocently, then took a deep breath and faced his friends. They weren't accusing him, he reminded himself. Just looking for answers.

"The first one I saw was a woman. During one of my shifts. She, um, was dressed in all black and…" He couldn't think of how else to describe her, but Pitch supplied a name.

"You might know her as Isobel Gowdie, North."

North's frown shifted slightly to something less severe. "You don't mean…"

Pitch laughed quietly and motioned for Jack to continue.

"Uh…well, then the next visitors I saw during one of my shifts were a few fairies and witches, an alchemist, I think, some guy with wings…"

Bunny looked grave. "So he's had some friends over. Yippee. What about the Fearlings, mate? How did you see them?"

Jack thought quickly. "When I took over for Tooth." He nodded to her. "That time you asked me, remember?"

"I do," she replied quietly, eyes locked on Pitch.

"In truth," the Nightmare King cut in, "I was expecting you, Toothiana." Jack wondered if the full name was used as an appeasement attempt. "I had been practicing, testing my control over them. I knew that you would ask questions when you came, thus saving me the trouble of having to wait. But then Frost appeared." He shrugged almost helplessly. "I assumed he would just run home and tell all of you. I'll admit it was bizarre when no one came around with questions, but who am I to question a gift?"

"Why do you need the Fearlings?" North said carefully after thinking of his words. Jack wondered what he had been going to say that had upset Pitch so much.

Pitch grimaced. "Just like your associates of the light, those of the dark have also heard of my…small failure." Bunny snorted. "They know I must reside here. I am the king of nightmares and darkness, and many have come by during the months of Frost's shift seeking my shadows for their own."

"Whoa, wait, what?" Jack spluttered angrily, not liking where this was going. "Why just my shift?"

Pitch's eyes were calm, mocking. "I assumed it obvious. You pose no threat to them, therefore they feel they can safely ask after me during your month."

Okay, that was so not flattering, but before Jack could voice his snappy retort, North said, "And have you been giving them the shadows?"

"No." Pitch's answer was resolute, hard. "I will not waste the darkness on those idiots."

Sandy produced a little gold Fearling and a silhouette of Pitch above his head, followed by a question mark.

"Because, Sanderson," Pitch explained in a very bored manner, "I need protection. I have only enough black sand left to maintain a few Nightmares. All of my visitors, and the ones who will inevitably follow, are propositioning me now that they hear I am trapped in this hole. They say I have no need for so many shadows and request that I hand just a few over. Don't worry; I will always refuse them. That will not stop them from attempting to take them from me by force. That might not occur for a long while, but I would like to prepare to defend myself now as opposed to later."

"So we'll just throw up a few more barriers," Bunny huffed. "Keep them out."

Pitch tilted his head softly. "You haven't the slightest idea, have you. Wards will not keep these people out. They will find a way to get in. And they watch, rabbit. It is why they only come for Frost's months. _You're_ most likely being tailed from time to time. Or have you not noticed?"

Jack watched his friends shift with unease. They were being watched and they hadn't even noticed? Pitch observed them all before spreading his hands and added, "My point was that if you do put barriers up to keep them out, they will grow _very_ discontent. Perhaps they'll come after you. They do like to see me from time to time, business or pleasure."

They were all quiet. Then North growled, "You may continue with your Fearling practice."

Pitch laughed breathily. "I _may_ continue? How generous. I'll probably throw a few Nightmare Men in the mix – stop making that face. I will not take my safety lightly." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Now, if you could all show yourselves out? I don't like trespassers."

They all left in their separate ways. Tooth darted out quickly while Sandy followed on his floating island, pointing almost comically at Pitch with two fingers. Jack snickered. _Guess you're on Sandy's radar now._ North pulled out his snow globe and Bunny tapped out a tunnel, but not before nudging North and murmuring, "We need to talk." Jack heard it, and he knew Pitch did too because he rolled his eyes dramatically as the two Guardians disappeared.

Jack shuffled his feet and jumped up into the air. "Thanks for throwing me under the bus," he tossed nastily over his shoulder, flying up to the entrance. Pitch rose up right in front of him, forcing him back a few feet. "_What?_"

Those golden eyes were calm now, and Pitch beckoned Jack closer. This time, Jack came without protest, making sure he had a firm grip on his staff. After seeing how easily he had dispatched the Fearlings, he knew he could take any trouble Pitch would dish out. However, Pitch only dipped his head close to the crook of Jack's neck and stilled. Jack shivered, feeling lips ghost over his skin. Jack knew the shade was feeding, because he could feel his own tension and fear draining.

"You were afraid," Pitch declared slowly, "that they would deem you a traitor again."

_You've got three seconds to back off, buddy._

"Calm yourself, Frost." Pitch took a step back, looking a little better after tasting the fresh fear. Jack didn't know why he felt a little glad that the good condition was due to him. "Honestly, I thought you knew better. Why did you not tell them of my visitors? Of the Fearlings?" Jack felt the panic stirring in his stomach, but Pitch raised his hand almost kindly. "No. This is not an accusation. I know your flaw, Jack Frost. You cannot find the words to defend yourself under sudden pressure, like when you are feeling like you are being accused. I am not pressuring you now. I am not blaming you, though I was rather displeased that they stormed my home. Do you understand?"

Jack nodded.

"Then why did you not tell them?"

The uncharacteristic patience behind those words caused the knot in his chest to loosen, his throat to open up, and his mouth to work. "I thought they knew about them. I didn't realize that I was the only one seeing these things. I thought you showed them the same stuff, treated the same."

Pitch laughed, not unkindly. "I have never treated you all the same." His visage lapsed into seriousness. "Jack. Your little friends are big contenders whom my friends believe require some surveillance. You do not need that."

"Is that a compliment?" Jack asked wryly.

"Perhaps not. But heed my advice: do not give my visitors a reason to tail you. It would be to your advantage."

Jack shook his head and floated over him. "Why bother helping me out?"

"I help myself in the long run."

Jack whirled to glare at him. "Well, gee, how nice."

But Pitch wasn't looking at him with the eyes of a man who only saw him as a pawn to serve him. The look was selfish, yes, but not cruel. It was personal, and almost _worried_, and it disturbed Jack.

He could not stop thinking about it as he flew the short distance home.


	4. Let's Compromise

**Let's Compromise**

The shifts changed after that. The time between each visiting period shrank down to a couple weeks. Jack was very sure this was his fault, but he tried not to dwell on it. The Guardians forgave him for his mistake. They could see that it had been an honest one, but now they had to make sure that they were aware of everything Pitch was doing now that he had Fearlings and Nightmare Men at his command once more.

Jack knew there was a story behind those dark powers, but with the way he had been screwing things up lately, he decided it best not to ask. He could not complain about the frequency of his visits now, nor did he want to wonder why he felt comfortable about it. The Nightmare King was someone he should have loathed with every frosty fiber of his being, and while he could see that his friends harbored some sort of deep grudge against Pitch, he found that he could not.

North took to fashioning small alert devices for each of them so they could be personally notified when Pitch's visitors passed the wards. Originally, the notification would activate if Pitch left the lair; a signal would be sent to North, who would in turn alert the Guardians, and they would go find Pitch. Now they would all be notified, though they weren't required to go check up on Pitch. Jack's communication device of unmeltable ice predictably took on the shape of a snowflake. Tooth had a tooth, understandably. Bunny, an egg. Sandy, a crescent moon. North had a sleigh, but he made personal modifications to his so he could watch it fly.

Every time Jack felt a pleasant heat from his pocket, usually during his month, he knew someone had entered Pitch's domain. He kept track of the frequency of the visits, the number of visitors. When he went to the lair for his shift, he usually found Pitch entertaining. Jack would mess around up high, sometimes made it snow or ice the floor to mess with the visitors. Pitch would chase him away with Nightmare Men, and Jack would settle for floating around aimlessly until the guests had dispersed.

It had become routine, and every time, Jack felt Pitch's irritation deteriorate more and more until the scolding that came from his mouth sounded rehearsed. Sometimes Jack imagined that the words had a fond undertone to it, but then the shadows would crop up and that was actually really frightening every time, and he'd retreat to a bridge, wondering.

Pitch's lair was always quiet when he dropped in. He tended to find Pitch in the study, reading quietly or writing slowly in blank books. Once, when he peered over Pitch's shoulder, he caught sight of his elegant, but highly foreign scrawl. Although Jack couldn't read it, Pitch had slammed the book shut and tossed Jack out of the room with a gust of darkness.

Jack wondered if Pitch treated all the Guardians as he treated him. Or perhaps he did things differently. Did he argue with Bunny? Taunt Sandy? Ignore North? Charm Tooth? The last thought pricked him with annoyance. He wondered what Pitch felt like, seeing Tooth. Did he find her attractive? She was beautiful, of course, but the thought of Pitch flirting with her (not that it would ever happen, he _knew_ that) was…annoying.

Jack caught himself delving more and more into the thought and quickly kicked it out of his mind to make room for lighter subjects and fun times. He didn't visit Pitch outside of his scheduled shift. That urge was somewhat sated by the closer visits.

It frightened him, though. Why did he feel the urge to visit? Why was he satisfied by more frequent visits?

_That's it, buddy. Your head's going to hell._

* * *

In January, Jack touched down for his regular shift. He was just in time to see a larger number of unfamiliar creatures and spirits making their way for the exits. He caught sight of two regulars: the alchemist, Faust, and the bat guy, Irdu. Both went to separate directions, but they saw Jack and cast him strange looks of their own.

Faust's was scrutinizing and a little hungry, and it drifted from Jack's face to his staff. Jack gripped it a little tighter and thought it was better to watch Irdu leave, but that proved to be even worse. The man's rust-red eyes brightened mischievously, and his smirk was made of lust, and Jack found that while the heat which pooled in his stomach was pleasant, he _did not_ like that Irdu was causing it.

Pitch snapped something at Irdu, who shrugged and turned away. The heat dissipated, leaving Jack with an empty sense of disappointment in his gut. However, in his heart and mind, he felt relief. He didn't like that guy. As soon as everyone was gone, he raced after Pitch and asked, "What is he?"

"Who?" Pitch replied absentmindedly as he entered the small kitchen. Jack had grown used to seeing the dimly lit place and tended to tease Pitch about the old fashioned gas stove in the corner, but today, he focused.

"The bat guy, Irdu or whatever."

Pitch flicked a hand and empty, dirty teacups from today's visit danced in on shadows, planting themselves in the sink. "Hn."

"Pitch?"

The water started and the shadows curled around sponges and started washing the cups. The Nightmare King's mind was clearly elsewhere.

"_Pitch_."

Golden eyes blinked once, twice, before focusing on Jack's face. "He is an incubus."

Jack grimaced and said, "Well, that explains that."

"Explains what?"

"That…seduction thing he does with his eyes."

"Does it make you feel good?" Pitch teased.

Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah…but I don't like it. It feels good, but not…right."

Pitch looked disturbingly pleased with this response. "Interesting."

Jack hopped up on the island counter, swinging his feet, tracing frost into the floor with the butt of his staff. "So you treat all the guys that are trying to use you like house guests, but you treat us like crap?"

"Have I been unkind to you yet, Frost?" Pitch inquired with a dark smirk.

"…Not really."

"Then I'm not doing my job properly," he drawled, gliding out of there. "I shall strive to make your visits unpleasant."

"That's another thing!" Jack followed. "Every time we, the Guardians, I mean, meet up to discuss how our visits here went, we report the same thing. Sandy's irritated, North takes it in stride, Tooth's in a bit of a daze, and Bunny's hopping mad – no pun intended."

Pitch frowned as he entered the sitting room and settled in a chair before the fire. "You most certainly did intend that."

Jack grinned and perched on the high back of the other chair. "Okay, yeah, I did. So clearly I'm the one who bugs you the least."

"_Clearly_," Pitch agreed sarcastically.

"So does that mean you miss me when the others come by?"

"How in high heaven did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Do you?"

"Not in the slightest." There was no hesitation.

"Asshole." He watched Pitch open a book to its bookmark and begin reading. "I was thinking…"

"Do you ever really think?"

"Ouch, hey! I was thinking that I could try talking to the guys again, see if they would consider letting you out."

"I'd love to see you try and fail."

Jack jumped over to the back of Pitch's chair and leaned over until he was nose to nose with him, upside down. "Is that a challenge, Boogeyboy?"

His grin took a running leap from his face and landed on Pitch's, only there was a darker tilt to it, a disturbing leer lurking just behind it. Without warning, Pitch grabbed Jack's collar and yanked down, flipping him over and causing him to land hard in his lap. Jack's fear spiked and he felt his staff sparking due to it. Pitch leaned over and pressed his lips to the nape of Jack's neck.

A shudder ripped through Jack's body and he squirmed, but a warm hand fell to his hip, and an arm circled his waist, and he froze.

"It is a challenge, I suppose."

Jack couldn't stop himself from leaning back into the heat. "Good. It's a bet then. Be prepared to lose."

A chuckle. "If I win, what's in it for me, I wonder?"

Breathless, though he hadn't even _done_ anything, Jack threw back, "What's in it for _me_ if I win?"

The lips trailed sensuously up his neck, and a hand turned his head so the lips rested just at the corner of Jack's mouth.

"I could give you what you want."

Jack jerked, but the hand at his hip pressed down bruisingly and the other slipped back around his chest tightly, and so all he could hiss was, "You don't know what I want." _I don't even know what I want._

"Jack."

His heart almost stopped. It had been a while since he had heard Pitch use his first name alone. A _long_ while. Not since the great confrontation with the Guardians.

"_Jack_," Pitch said again, accompanied by a chuckle, "no one usually realizes this, but I can taste more than just fear. It is not the only emotion I can take. I taste more. So much more."

The sensation of lips brushing against his skin was too much for Jack. "So – _ngh_ – why don't you just feed on other emotions?"

Pitch was quiet against him for a moment before his voice deepened sorrowfully. "Because fear is all they will take."

"Wha—?" Jack whimpered, but he couldn't dwell on the question, because the hand on his chest was sliding down, down to his thigh, to his knee, then back up to the inside of his thigh, and he knew where it was going. His eyelids fluttered and he managed to glance down, only to realize in horror that he was half-hard, caught up in the sensation, and that hand was still moving, and he couldn't let Pitch _touch him there_—

He shot up and out of Pitch's arms, raced out the door, and hightailed it out of the lair faster than he ever had in his life.

_Holy _shit_. That sonuva—!_

He was going to win the bet.

* * *

Jack had to plow his way through a few icy tunnels around the Pole to get rid of his erection. And he had to think _very_ hard about something else other than smoky shadows and deep, velvety purrs and wandering hands that burned with promises.

Eventually, he settled and entered the Workshop. He found North in his private workroom, carving yet another toy prototype out of his magic ice. To his surprise, Bunny was also there, and although he was painting eggs, he and North were speaking in hushed, serious tones. Jack knocked on the half-open door.

North looked up and beamed. "Jack! Come in, my friend! How was the watch?"

"Pretty good, I guess," Jack admitted, smiling at Bunny who gave a friendly nod back. "He had visitors again. The usual ones."

"Gettin' persistent," Bunny said.

Jack shuffled his feet before planting his staff upright and hopping up on it. "Guys, we need to talk." In truth, he was glad both of them were here. They would be the ones who needed the most convincing for his idea.

Bunny's ears twitched forward with interest and North nodded.

"I think we should let Pitch go around without being watched."

He waited for immediate disagreement, but to his suspicion, the pair shared a glance and North said, "This is the second time you've suggested this. Present an argument. Why should we let him?"

"Because it's cruel to keep him caged." Jack had prepared for that question, though he had expected it would be accompanied by a lot of opposition. "Because he's not at full power, and although I know you don't want him to be, what he said about those people who have been visiting is true. There were a _lot_ of them today, and they all left with nothing. Something's bound to give."

He waited for their response, but all Bunny said was, "Go on."

"Okay. I think pretty soon, those guys will start thinking that if Pitch is being kept down by us, he's too weak to fight back, and they'll try to take the shadows. We don't want to deal with that. Also, there's the possibility that they will attack us if they grow impatient enough. They could think we're the ones who are preventing Pitch from distributing shadows. It's best to let him out so he can assert his power."

"Put up an image, eh?" Bunny mused, nodding. "Kid, do you have any idea of what Pitch has done?"

"Obviously not," Jack groused. "Otherwise I wouldn't be asking."

"So attacking children and breaking your staff wasn't enough?"

"…Yes? I don't know!"

North regarded him gently with his kind eyes, and Jack remembered why he liked him best out of all the Guardians, not that he was usually one to pick favorites amongst them. Just in the moments when he really needed someone to listen to him with an open mind. "Jack. There are things he has done that are worse. And we all know of them, Sandy best of all."

Jack's eyebrows went up. "Sandy? Really? I always thought you would have gone back with Pitch the longest."

North shook his great head, a look of relief evident on his usually jolly features. "I am glad I did not know him as long. Sandy was the first Guardian, you know. But this is not the point I make. We have each seen the horrors Pitch creates, and you, knowing next to nothing, would let him out?"

Jack stepped down from his perch slowly, never taking his eyes off of them. "You could accompany him every time he goes out. And he doesn't have to be out very long."

Silence. Then Bunny's nose twitched and he said, "I'll do ya one better, mate. You can remove the wards from around his hole entirely."

Jack felt his jaw drop.

North was chuckling. "Is good idea, no? It will give Pitch power over his visitors, yet also keep us safe. And we will still watch him."

"You go tell 'im," Bunny said, "that when he goes out the first few times, we gotta approve it, and one of us has to be with him. After that, he can do his own thing, but since he can only collect at night, Tooth's fairies and Sandy will be watchin' out for him."

Jack was grinning now because he didn't feel so guilty, and Pitch would start feeling much better soon, and he had won the—

_Guh…_

He spun away before they could see the horrible wave of pink that was threatening his cheeks. "I'll get around to it later. But thanks. When'll he go out?"

"On my shift first," North decided.

"Got it, thanks."

Jack decided that he was very much in over his head.

* * *

He had put off visiting for as long as possible, but it only took a few days for him to break. Maybe it was because, after a brief nap in his familiar tree by his pond, he felt the sun strike him, just on his face, and as he turned his head, it brushed his neck and the heat shot straight through him, a fierce reminder of what had occurred.

He marched over the ridge and descended into darkness.

The first thing he heard was an angry shout. He quickened his pace quietly and hopped onto a ledge, peering down. He saw a tall man with wings, and at first believed it was Irdu, but then he saw that the wings were made of feathers, and this man was most definitely not Irdu. Pitch was watching his guest warily, hands spread over pools of shadows that slithered restlessly, waiting for his command.

"Hey, bird boy!" Jack shouted, jumping down.

He didn't know what he was doing, but as the stranger turned and bared his teeth, Jack was sure he was going to get himself killed. The man's hands were like talons, eyes wide like a hawk's, and he pushed off with a powerful gust of wind to meet Jack in midair.

Jack allowed his icy lightning to fly from his staff immediately, and he reveled in the startled look the bird man had as he just barely dodged. The ice clipped the edge of his right wing and the feathers started frosting over. Jack geared up for another blast, but darkness suddenly swirled around him and wrenched his staff from him.

He found himself sitting on the ground at Pitch's feet, stunned, and when he looked up, he saw the birdman stumbling down, trying to find his balance and shake off the frigid ice.

"I suggest you leave."

The deep growl was cold and full of an unspoken threat, and he felt himself shrink as he peered up at Pitch. Pitch wasn't looking at him, but at the stranger, who blinked furious orange eyes.

"You're making a big mistake," he croaked.

Pitch inclined his head and replied the same dark tone, "I do not conduct business with underlings, tengu."

The feathers on the stranger's back bristled. "I have a _name_!"

"Of course you do. Now get out."

Jack tensed when those bird-of-prey eyes landed on his form. The creature Pitch had called Tengu lifted a curved talon to point at him, and said to Pitch, "Is he yours?"

The floor seemed to drop out from under Jack when Pitch finally looked at him. Those golden eyes were blank, empty, and disregard swam in them as he turned back to Tengu and replied, "Hardly. Do you want him?"

He held out the staff. Jack's staff.

The unbidden noise of fear wrenched itself from his throat, and Jack scrambled up, grabbing wildly at his source of power. Pitch lazily crooked a finger, and darkness wrapped around Jack's wrist and ankles and pulled him against the ground, where he struggled futilely. Pitch held out the staff again. Tengu regarded him with a sneer, then shook his head of black hair.

"He's not worth the kill. And neither are you."

Something very dangerous appeared in Pitch's eyes, and Tengu flinched and lifted off, wings free of ice. "Just you wait, Pitch. He's not going to be happy about this."

"I'd assume he's already displeased from having an incompetent fool such as yourself for a servant. When your master wants to reveal his identity and do business with me himself, I'll be here."

The creature didn't rise to the taunt, though he certainly looked like he wanted to. He flew up and away with a bird-like cry that scratched at Jack's ears like nails on a chalkboard. Jack only had eyes for his staff, which grew nearer as Pitch crouched down.

As soon as the shadows were gone, Jack lunged with a punch.

Pitch caught his hand easily. "Settle."

Jack didn't even bother swiping with his free hand. He stared Pitch down murderously and his voice dipped an octave as he ground out, "Give. It. _Back._"

A faint crackling noise pulled his eyes towards where his hand was caught. Pitch's fingers were being iced over very quickly. Jack looked back at the Nightmare King and was shocked to find the man looking quite sorrowful.

Very carefully, Pitch placed the staff between them and Jack took it with a snarl, the fear of loss quelling in his heart. "You're a bastard."

"I knew he would not take it." Jack forced more frost onto Pitch's hand, and still the man did not flinch. "Settle," he repeated.

Jack tried, he really did, but his heart was pounding and his head wouldn't listen. He was scared and angry and _very_ annoyed that Pitch would repay his kind deed with something like this, offering him up like a prized hog for the slaughter without his only item of protection. Pitch took a slow step forward, and when Jack's breathing escalated, he took one more and slid his free hand around Jack's waist. Jack let him, but his head was starting to hurt. Pitch dipped his head, but instead of letting his lips fall to Jack's neck, they pressed lightly to his forehead.

Jack shuttered at the warmth that spread through his temple, soothing the ache. _You're in too deep, man. Stop, stop, you've gotta_—

"Stop."

"No," Pitch breathed. "It's alright."

The negative emotions were leaving, something curling nicely in their place. Safety.

Pitch jerked back and Jack whined a little at the loss of contact, but the Nightmare King shook his head with a sliver of disapproval in his eyes. "No. You should not feel safe with me, Jack. Never."

Jack smiled grimly. "Yeah, I know. Especially with what you just did."

"I knew he wouldn't," Pitch insisted quietly, leaning back in. Jack accepted the contact with a soft sigh and Pitch laughed. "I suppose I do know what you want."

The words brought a jolt of remembrance and pleasure to Jack's body, and he suddenly recalled exactly why he was here, off schedule. He leaned back from Pitch's face, and Pitch raised one eyebrow in vague curiosity. Jack could only grin in sheer triumph.

"I win."

The eyebrow arched higher, and was it wrong that Jack thought it made him look a little (or a lot) sexy? "And what exactly did you win?"

"The bet."

Slowly, Pitch's solar eclipse eyes brightened to an effervescent shade of gold. "You," he started to whisper, and Jack was already nodding giddily.

"I got you parole."

They just stared at each other for a moment, then Jack felt movement in his left hand, the one caught in Pitch's grasp. The frost on Pitch's hand was melting, and Jack could feel the warmth spreading down his arm. Carefully, he watched with ever-growing surprise as Pitch carefully let go and pushed his slender fingers into Jack's clenched fist. Jack relaxed his hand and allowed Pitch to lace their fingers together, then leaned back in to accept the warmth to his forehead again.

"You shouldn't have," Pitch whispered, and Jack thought he was just making a joke, but then he continued, "You shouldn't have pressed for this. Surely they'll think your insistence is suspicious."

"What's to be suspicious about?" Jack whispered back with a coy grin that Pitch couldn't see. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"You're awfully loyal to me."

"This isn't loyalty. More like guilt."

Pitch grunted. "I don't like that."

"Got you out, didn't it."

"You shouldn't trust me."

"Who said I trusted you? I know that even at your full power, we can beat you. And also, it looks like I wasn't the only one who's been thinking of letting you run free without supervision." He pulled back to look at him seriously. "The others have been thinking about this too, and it didn't take much convincing. They'd have gotten around to it. This is for them more than for you. We can't have your visitors taking an interest in us and threatening our lives, or the children we protect."

"Ah, yes. Always an angle. I'm impressed."

"Benefits you anyway."

"I'm aware of that." A strange hunger was slowly leaking into that golden gaze, and Pitch moved forward until Jack was flush against him. "I'm also aware that you won."

Jack swallowed. "What was my prize again?"

"What you want, I believe." The heat was spreading. "And just what do you want?"

His quiet "I don't know" was swallowed by Pitch's mouth as he pressed their lips together quickly.

The kiss was lazy and indulgent, all reward and no guilt. Pitch's tongue nudged him insistently, and Jack's lips became fully compliant and parted, and the warmth entered him taking over his cold cavern with greed. The slick feeling, the quick cooling, the angling of his head to gain better access, to fight back against Pitch's presence, to see if he could invade too.

Pitch's hand was tightening on his, and he was holding him so close, and his breath was being stolen, and he was seeing stars. His gasps echoed as Pitch abandoned his mouth in favor of his cheek, his ear, his neck, each kiss sending spirals of heat into his skin. He keened, his right hand trying to tug on Pitch's robe and still keep his staff.

Suddenly, all the heat left. He was grasping air, and his skin prickled with emptiness, and he actually cried out in frustration because he had been _tricked_, Pitch was supposed to give him _what he wanted_.

"Oh, don't pout." The voice came from the shadows somewhere nearby, and Jack wanted to kill him and drag him out for another kiss at the same time. "I held up my end of the bargain."

"You said," Jack started, voice taught with aggravation.

"_You_ said you didn't know," Pitch chuckled patiently. "I was left to guess. And now I'm done."

_Damn it, damn it, you rotten—!_

"I look forward to the details of my parole, Jack."

Jack knew he was alone after that, because the silence was still. Pitch had probably slinked off to one of his private rooms. After turning slowly to take a good look around, Jack rapped his staff against the floor, sending large spirals of ice across it. He hoped Pitch broke his neck when he ventured out again.


	5. Air Between These Spaces

**Author's Note:** This story is probably going to get serious in the next few chapters (not so much this one). It's not only a puff piece for the Black/Frost pairing. I like my stories to have a little plot, and I know there are people out there who like being dragged along for a good ride.

* * *

**Air Between These Spaces**

As soon as North stepped out of the portal, Jack crowded close with the other Guardians. "Well? _Well?_ How did it go?"

Tooth darted in and out, mouth shooting off more detailed questions at a rapid speed. Bunny hopped up once, twice, trying to get a good look at North, to see if he was alright. Sandy tapped him on the shoulder consistently, trying to earn his attention.

North pushed through them all with his big hands and trudged heavily to his usual seat at the table before dropping in it, his movements lacking their usual vigor. The others fell silent, though Jack floated forward impatiently, every nerve alive with anticipation.

When North looked up, his cheeks were their usual rosy color, but Jack knew it was the flush of anger, and his blue eyes were darkened, stormy like the sky when Jack flew over a city with the intent to bring down a blizzard. North wasn't actually looking at them. He was lost in thought, not seeing anyone. Then he sighed heavily, and Jack could hear the age behind his deep voice. "It…could have gone better."

The others immediately took their seats, ready for the explanation, but Jack remained standing, rocking his staff back and forth. He wanted to get out, wanted to see Pitch. But he stayed impatiently to hear how the first outing with the Nightmare King had gone.

"We started out," North said slowly. "Caught the edge of night and found children easily. We…entered a bedroom. A little girl's. Pitch had a Nightmare with him, and it became small and went over the child's head, and I could see her fears, and she looked so…"

"North," Tooth murmured sympathetically, reaching out and touching his arm. He nodded gratefully and covered her petite hand with his giant paw.

He took a deep breath and continued. "It was a difficult thing to watch, and I did not want to, so I pulled him away. He resisted, and I was needing to use the roughness. I could not let him finish. The Nightmare followed us back, I left him at his hole, and came here."

Jack was confused. "But why did it take you so long?"

"Before it all, I looked for a suitable child for him to...I did not want him to pick. I couldn't. So I searched for a long time."

Jack's lips tightened in a thin line, but he nodded in understanding. He had never seen it, but he supposed it was uncomfortable to watch a child sleep beneath fear. "How did he seem when you left?"

North chuckled, looking a little better. "Furious. Is good look for him."

They looked at each other quietly, uncomfortably, and Jack suggested, "Maybe someone should go check on him so he doesn't go crazy. We did promise him this night."

"You should probably go," Tooth said, ignoring the protest of the others. "No, he should. Pitch doesn't get as riled up with Jack as he does with us. It's probably because they don't have a history like we do. If any of us showed up, he wouldn't take to us kindly."

Bunny's ears drooped disapprovingly, but his nose twitched in agreement. "Jack, you be careful, ya hear? That bloke's shifty."

Jack cast them his lopsided, cocksure grin. "C'mon, Bunny. What do you take me for, an idiot?"

Bunny smiled banteringly. "I don't think you want me to answer that, mate."

* * *

Jack heard the roar before he even set foot in the hole. Alarmed, he dove in and couldn't stop himself as he burst through the living wall of Fearlings that were screeching and shooting past.

Down below, Pitch stood tall, arms at his sides slightly bent, fists clenched tightly. His head was thrown back, black hair wilder that usual. His eyes were shut only for a second, but when they flew open, his pupils were pinpricks and the gold was overwhelming and _angry_. His mouth was open in a snarl, and from it poured forth the most furious howl Jack had ever heard him utter.

An earsplitting crack tore his attention away from the frightening sight. The shadows were pushing out, smashing into walls, stairways, archways, bridges, and those were crumbling with every hit they took. Was he trying to bring this place down on himself?

Jack flew down, staff in front of him for protection, shouting Pitch's name. At first he thought the man couldn't hear him, but then he saw Pitch slowly turn to face him. Something was wrong with those eyes. They saw him, but they didn't recognize him.

He watched with horror as Pitch's right hand came up and shadows poured out, straightening and stiffening and flying for Jack. Jack froze them as they came, and they crumbled when he smashed through them.

_Come on, come on, come on!_

Pitch was gearing up for another wave, but Jack reached out a hand just as he reached him and grabbed Pitch's fingers. Pitch snarled, and Jack could feel the shadows closing in, so he forced his fingers through Pitch's, squeezing. The lack of recognition started to clear up, but it wasn't safe and the shadows were scratching his legs, and his body felt cold and he let ice slink up Pitch's fingers, over his knuckles and hand, a desperate attempt.

A quiet inhalation.

Pitch's black pupils widened. The shadows withdrew disappointedly from Jack's legs, and he kicked his feet to shoo the remnants. He looked around to make sure everything was receding and winced when he saw the middle of a weakened bridge suddenly collapse in the distance, the rumble shaking the earth and air.

"Yikes," he chuckled, turning back to the Boogeyman. Pitch was looking at him with clarity, eyes shifting slightly to take in all of Jack's face. Then they slid down to their conjoined hands. Jack squawked. "Sorry."

Pitch clamped his fingers down to prevent him from moving away. "No." He drew their hands up and pressed his lips to Jack's exposed wrist. Jack couldn't deny that he liked the way his toes curled in response to the smooth sensation.

"I needed that," Pitch said against his skin, voice hoarse and deep and _angry_.

_Oh, yeah._ "I heard what happened."

"Bah!" Pitch spat, letting go and pacing away. Jack watched the ice melt from his dark skin with disappointment. "I hardly had a taste before that fat fool dragged me out. And it wasn't a very good taste either."

"It's in his nature," Jack defended. "He's sworn to protect children. How do you think he feels watching you do that, knowing he's allowing you to do that?"

"I don't know, I don't care," Pitch hissed, rounding on him. "Do _you_ know what it's like to desire something so greatly, and then have it ripped away after you've had it for only a few seconds?"

Jack looked down at his empty hand, and thought unintentionally, _Maybe._

Pitch had calmed himself again and was still, watching Jack.

"No," Jack said quickly after realizing that the man wanted an answer. "And I know it's not fair to you." He glanced up. The wards were down, as promised, but Pitch knew the consequences if he was caught without an escort. Jack half-smiled and flew up, beckoning to Pitch. "Let's go. I have an idea. Bring a Nightmare."

Pitch didn't follow immediately, and Jack had to wait outside the hole for a minute before Pitch emerged, tall and proud on the back of an anxious beast. It was still daylight out, progressing to the afternoon, but it was night somewhere around the world, and that was where Jack intended to go.

He caught the wind and flew silently, glancing back occasionally to make sure he was being followed. Pitch maintained a good distance behind him on his elegant beast, face fixed in an expressionless mask. Jack didn't like that. He liked it when he could read Pitch's face, whether it was teasing, cruel, or, in the rare moments, gentle.

They caught up to the night zone quickly and touched town on a residential rooftop in Mumbai. The Nightmare landed easily, hooves clopping across the tiles, and still Pitch's expression did not budge. "Well, Guardian? Where will you direct me to?"

Jack recalled what North had said and replied, "You choose." He cheered inwardly when the mask cracked with surprise. "I'm no expert. Can't sniff out fear like you or your creations can. Go for it. Pick one."

A smile ghosted across the ashy face before Pitch spurred his horse onward. Jack waited and watched as they glided through the air, both master and beast attentive to the darkness. Finally, Pitch descended on a roof two blocks down, and Jack went to him. They all slipped through the glass and into the messily decorated room of a young child who was nestled comfortably beneath his covers.

Jack could see the eagerness in Pitch's face, but then Pitch seemed to remember that he was not alone with his meal. He glanced at Jack and suggested lightly, "You may wish to look away. You spend more time with children than the others. This will unnerve you the most."

Jack nodded and turned away, going to the window. He heard the Nightmare nicker softly, heard the soft shush of sand changing and forming, drawing out fear from the recesses of the child's mind.

He was not ready for the whimper.

Such a small sound. He was no stranger to it, he had made it before. But this soft noise was followed by a hitching sob, and Jack wondered just how much fear Pitch was drawing to the surface. Perhaps it was Jack's own personal compassion and urge to protect, or perhaps it was the morals instilled upon becoming a true Guardian, but either way, he had to dig his nails into his palms and focus on the pain so he didn't turn around and shake Pitch by the collar.

It worked up until the sob became wet and consistent. Jack refused to listen a child cry in his or her sleep, and the word came unbidden.

"_Stop._"

The swish of sand, which had grown lively, instantly died down, and the child's cries also dimmed until there was nothing but the deep breathing of REM sleep. Jack started when Pitch move through the wall with his Nightmare and took to the starry sky; he immediately flew after him. When he caught up, he said, "I'm sorry, we can go back. I didn't mean it. You didn't have to stop."

Pitch stalled and took the time to look at Jack. The frost spirit was shocked to see the restraint and anxiety swimming in the dual eclipses. He recalled what North had said about needing to drag Pitch away from the first child. Why had he given up so easily this time?

"Pitch…?"

The Nightmare King grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. Jack understood and straddled the horse behind Pitch, and they rode. As they progressed through the night zone, they passed low under golden strands of dream sand. Jack saw Sandy miles away, could make out the contented smile the Guardian of Dreams had as he dished out nightly pleasantries to the children. Pitch tugged harshly on the reigns to avoid striking a stream. Jack wasn't prepared and nearly toppled off before Pitch forced him to grab hold of his waist.

Jack laughed into his back and teasingly traced patterns of frost into the dark robe, pressing his cheek to the warm fabric. He felt some of the tension ease out of Pitch, and continued the method. He pressed his mouth to Pitch's spine and blew frost through the fabric, knowing by how Pitch jerked that he definitely got nipped by cold.

"Imp," Pitch said, not unkindly. Jack heard the smile in his voice, felt a hand come up against his.

"Where are we going?"

"I suppose—"

Pitch's body seized up and the grip on Jack's hand became crushing as he was tugged off the horse. He spiraled through the air before getting his bearings straight and flying back angrily.

"What the hell—"

"_Quiet_," Pitch snapped, voice strained and low. "Keep your distance, don't look around, just fly straight."

Jack really didn't like that tone, and he sure didn't like anyone telling him what to do without a proper explanation, but he did as told, fixing his eyes in front of him and maintaining several meters between himself and Pitch. After a few minutes, he heard flapping in the darkness which was starting to clear up as they neared the daylight zone.

He couldn't help it. He stopped and turned, ignoring Pitch's displeasing hiss. His blood ran colder than usual as he saw who was flying towards them.

It was Irdu, the seductive incubus, and the creature Pitch had called Tengu. The former looked rather pleased to catch Jack's eye, while the latter grinned maliciously and brandished his talon-like fingers. Jack gripped his staff tightly and prepared himself, but the winged beings just came to a stop before him and Pitch, who had brought his horse about.

"Irdu. What a pleasant surprise. And I see you brought a little crow for me to snack on."

Tengu spat angrily, but Irdu only grinned happily. "Well, I thought I sensed an overwhelming force floating by. Thought I would investigate."

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you hang around useless birds?"

Irdu laughed as Tengu bristled. "I don't. Happened to be in the neighborhood."

Jack inched away when he felt the air around Pitch change. It crackled with negative energy and a bit of it zapped Jack, who cringed and scratched his arm where it had been stung. Irdu looked equally uncomfortable, though he masked most of that behind a smile. Tengu's fright was displayed momentarily and he moved away the furthest before settling his expression on anger.

"I do not like liars, Irdu," Pitch growled dangerously, "and I do not like spies."

Irdu pointed at Jack. "Then why haven't you killed him?"

_Killed? Whoa, guy, no one needs to get that extreme!_

"He is part of my…parole," Pitch said, as though tasting the words. "I will return to my nightly rounds soon enough. Alone."

"I look forward to it, then," Irdu said. He turned and produced a more powerful stroke with his wings, heading in the opposite direction.

Tengu cast a nasty glare at Jack and hissed, "I got my eye on you, Frosty."

Jack gaped as they were left alone. "Frosty? _Frosty?_ Oh, _hell no_, he did not just confuse me with that damn snowman, did he?"

Pitch was making a strange noise from behind his hand, and Jack recognized it as laughter. Irritated, he shot the Nightmare's flank up with a bit of frost, causing the horse to buck and shoot off towards the daylight zone. Jack caught up and was annoyed to find that Pitch was still laughing, even after he took control of the horse. He looked at Jack, who crossed his arms and scowled.

"Not a word."

Pitch dipped his head graciously, though his mouth was still curled upwards and didn't look like it would go down anytime soon.

* * *

Darkness was closing in on Burgess, and Jack still found himself in the presence of his sworn enemy. He frowned at the grass. _Might have to rethink that title, huh?_

It was very early March, so he still allowed himself to make it snow around here. It was only during the serious months of warmth, like late spring and summer, in which he held off from spreading his wintery gift around the places that didn't usually get it. Of course, here at this pond, he made sure it was always frozen. This was his domain.

He was pulled from his reverie when Pitch shifted at his side and caught up his hand, pressing it to his warm mouth. Jack couldn't help but stare. His eyes tracked the smooth slant of Pitch's forehead, the straight decline of his nose, the narrow cheekbones, the thin lips. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought that Pitch's skin wasn't so ashy anymore. It had lightened, seemed a little creamier.

Pitch caught him staring and gave him a dark sultry look, dragging Jack's fingers over his mouth. His tongue lapped briefly at the middle finger, and Jack cleared his throat and looked out at the Nightmare which was dancing across the surface of the frozen pond. "Uh, so what's her name?"

The wet warmth left his hand, and he felt it freeze over. Pitch said softly, "You think they have names?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, yeah, don't they? None of their patterns are the same. They're individuals. Don't you name them?"

Pitch chuckled. "I do not call them by name often. But her name is Onyx."

"Cool, cool," Jack said, bobbing his head, glad for the distraction from Pitch's closeness. "She special or something?"

"She was the first Nightmare I created to begin my assault on you Guardians."

_…Oh._

Jack twisted his lips to the side, comment at the ready, but the snapping of twigs and the crunching of snow put him on alert. He leapt up and glanced at Pitch, but he was already gone, as was Onyx the Nightmare.

_Of course._

He watched with growing bewilderment as a familiar face was pushed into the clearing: Jamie. Following him was a trio of boys; the very muscular one (how a child his age gained that kind of muscle, Jack could only speculate) in the middle seized Jamie's collar before he could step too far and dragged him along to the edge of the pond.

Jack could see Jamie's legs shaking from where he was, and a flash of rage nearly blinded him upon the realization that those creeps were _bullies._ He gritted his teeth and raised his staff, ready to blast them if any of them raised a hand against his first believer.

"Awesome," the muscular one laughed. "It's still frozen." He sneered at Jamie. "Betcha the ice is really thin."

_My ice? Thin? That hurts, asshat._

The kid pushed Jamie forward to the edge of the ice. "Why don't you test it for me, fairy boy?"

"Come on, Mick," Jamie murmured. "This isn't cool."

"It'll get cool in a few," one of the others laughed, nudging his friend at his poorly made joke.

Mick didn't give Jamie another second to protest, pushing him out onto the ice. Jack immediately dipped his staff and solidified the pond twice over, even though he knew it was thick enough. The new creeping frost caught Jamie's eyes, and he followed the trail until he saw Jack. Immediately, his trembling stopped, and he looked like he would cry out in relief.

Jack put a finger to his lips and made walking motions with his fingers before flying to the opposite side of the pond so he was directly across from Jamie. He opened his arms and said reassuringly, "Come."

Jamie nodded and asked Mick in a much steadier voice, "To the middle, or all the way across?"

"All the way across."

Jack's lips curled at the pure meanness he heard there, but he wiped the ugly expression from his face when Jamie looked back at him. He couldn't let the boy see him like that. He jerked his head, and Jamie started forward. Jack spoke to him gently, knowing the others couldn't hear him. "So who are these guys? Neighborhood brats?"

Jamie shook his head slightly.

"School bullies?"

A nod.

"Oh, geez, kid, tell me you're not gonna have to share a classroom with them next year."

"Dunno," Jamie replied glumly.

"What'd you say, freak?" Mick called out.

Jamie paused and called back, "Can I stop?"

"Keep moving, or we'll dump it, I swear."

Huffing, Jamie pressed on, not looking at Jack, who asked, "Dump what? Do they have something of yours?" He flew out to meet Jamie, whose pace was slow due to the slickness of the ice. He put an arm around the boy's shoulders and steadied him, and helped him move a little faster. "Here, it's okay. Talk quietly. What do they have?"

"My backpack," Jamie mumbled. "They're gonna ruin it. It's got all my school stuff and the library books I borrowed. That's what I'm worried about."

"What're the books about?"

Jamie gave a bashful smile. "You guys. Do you know that ever since that night, I've researched worldwide myths and legends a thousand times over? I think I'd make a decent storyteller."

Jack laughed. "That's great, kid. Look, we're almost there. Can you take it from here?"

Jamie nodded and walked the rest of the way on his own, then turned and called to his tormentors, "Now gimme back my stuff!"

Mick nudged one of his goons, pushing him out onto the ice. The kid whimpered, clutching a tattered backpack, and Mick told him to leave it in the middle of the ice.

"Jack," Jamie whispered pleadingly, "make him fall in. Please?"

Jack turned with astonishment. "Jamie, no!"

"Why not?"

He felt his throat pulse hotly. "Because I…you don't want that to happen to anyone. I promise, I'll make them pay, but not like that."

Jamie nodded, pale, and watched as the tall kid dropped his backpack in the middle of the pond and skittered his way back. Jack sent a blisteringly frigid wind their way, causing startled shouts and chasing them all the way out. "Don't worry," he assured Jamie, retrieving his backpack for him. "That's the least they're going to get from me."

"Thanks," Jamie sighed, taking it and slinging it over his shoulders. They walked back across the pond, side by side.

"So," Jack drew out. "Going to be a freshman?"

"Yeah," said Jamie brightly. "It's gonna be awesome…as long as I keep out of _their_ way."

Jack shook his silver head. "Naw, just ignore them. Stand up for yourself. Someone has to teach those creeps a lesson."

"How about you?" Jamie returned. "What have you been doing lately?"

"Babysitting," Jack chortled.

Jamie leapt onto the shore and turned, eyes wide. "You're joking."

Jack jumped when a silky voice said from the shadows, "I'd prefer it if you took your task seriously and gave it a proper name."

Jack scowled as Pitch emerged, glad Jamie couldn't see him. However, Jamie turned and stared straight at Pitch. His frame trembled a little, but then he squared his shoulders heroically and pointed, saying, "We meet again."

Pitch was just as surprised as Jack, but he recovered first. "I thought you didn't believe in me. You ran right through me last time I bothered."

"I just forgot about you, that was all," Jamie whispered, clutching the hem of Jack's hoodie. "You'd better back off. I'll turn your sand back to gold if I have to."

Jack grinned proudly. This kid was standing up to a being far more dangerous than those bullies. "Jamie, it's alright. He's under close watch. He can't do anything."

"Can't I?" Pitch said suggestively as his Nightmare stepped out as well and snorted warningly. Jamie threw a hand out, apparently quite serious about turning the horse back to the light. "Calm yourself, child, I have no interest in you. Your fear is quite diminished now. Wouldn't make a good meal."

Jamie looked questioningly at Jack, who ruffled his hair. "It's all good, kid. Go home, do your homework, and I might sprinkle something special on Burgess this week. Snow's still allowed in this month, right?"

Jamie bounced excitedly and said goodbye, throwing one final cautious glance at Pitch before running away through the trees.

"He's a good kid."

Pitch looked unconvinced and uncaring. "Wonderful. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to return home. Today has disappointed me twice, and I do believe you have to find a way to punish those _awful_ bullies." He was clearly being sarcastic.

"Did you actually approve of what they did?" Jack asked angrily.

"I only approved of the fear I sensed from both parties."

"Both?"

Pitch mounted Onyx and set off for the ridge. "They feared the consequences that would follow, should that child have fallen in. They also briefly imagined themselves on the ice."

Jack watched the proud figure float up with his horse before he was struck with a brilliant idea. "Wait! I think there's a way to make sure this day isn't a complete loss for you."

* * *

The black sand shifted with a soft _shaaaa_ and took the shape of a young boy making his way over a thin pond. With each step, the ice crackled threateningly. All around the edges of the pond, wolves began to slink in, snapping and snarling softly, ensuring that the boy would not be able to set foot on solid ground.

"Wolves?" a quiet voice chuckled from the corner of the darkened bedroom. "Really?"

"Am I not allowed to snazz it up?" the orchestrator of the nightmare replied.

"No, it's a nice touch." Jack hesitated as he heard the very faint crackle of the thin ice in the dark sand. "You can let him fall in, but don't make him feel like he's drowning."

Pitch turned his attention away from the sand for a moment to look at him. "Touches close to home, does it?" he inquired solemnly.

Jack nodded, and Pitch tilted his head in compliance and focused on the nightmare. Jack forced himself to watch as the unusually muscular child, Mick, grew restless in his sleep and whimpered as the wolves stepped onto the ice, forcing him into the center of the pond.

"Here comes the crescendo," Pitch breathed giddily, and with a grand flourish, the dream boy broke through the ice with a shrill cry, somehow managing to keep his head above water but still floundering helplessly.

Jack decided to watch Pitch instead. The Nightmare King's eyes fell softly shut, and his hands were splayed in front of him as he breathed deeply, taking in all the fear the sleeping boy was feeling. Jack relaxed a bit upon seeing some color return to Pitch's pale cheeks.

The boy in the dream had managed to clamber out onto a solid patch of ice, but the wolves were there, lunging, howling, snapping. Pitch glanced back, eyes brighter than ever. "No protest?"

Jack pursed his lips and shook his head.

Pitch shrugged and toyed with the dream as he pleased, and Jack strayed to the bedroom window for a look at the moon.

_You…if you talked to me, what would you say? Would you approve of what I'm doing? I know you see it. If you want me to stop, you've got to tell me. Tell _me_, don't ask the others to confront me like you did when you made me a Guardian._

But his mind was silent. There was no deep voice as there had been some three-hundred odd years ago when he had awakened as Jack Frost. Not even a whisper. Jack sighed quietly, breath creating familiar, lovely patterns of ice on the windowpane. He traced them over with his fingers, made more, and repeated it all mindlessly.

"Jack."

Pitch was watching him. "Yeah?"

"I've had my fill here."

Jack scratched the back of his neck and bobbed his head. "Oh, okay. Yeah, we can, we can move on to the next kid."

He watched Pitch finish the nightmare. He was expecting the wolves to tear the boy to shreds, but his eyebrows climbed to his hairline as a new figure ran in.

It looked like Jamie.

His hand was raised high, holding a burning torch, and he screamed and yelled at the wolves, just as frightened as Mick, but braver. He brandished the torch and the beasts scattered with hungry growls. Jamie looked around a few times to make sure that the danger was long gone, then knelt and reached out a hand to Mick.

Mick stared at his savior dumbly before grasping the hand.

The dream sand slowly distorted itself and grew until it had resumed the shape of Onyx, the Nightmare. Pitch ducked out the window with her, and Jack followed in a daze. He only had eyes for Pitch. They flew to the next house in silence, but when they reached the bedroom window, Jack snagged Pitch's sleeve meekly. "You…why did you do that?"

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "That's a vague question."

Jack brushed his fingers against his skin. "The nightmare. Why did you finish it off like that? It wasn't a nightmare at the end."

"No, it was," Pitch assured him, eyes sliding off to the side. "His fear was sustained. But the end of the nightmare was a message to him. A message suggesting a chance to redeem himself."

"Redemption," Jack whispered stepping closer through the air. He felt familiar fingers thread through his, and he lifted his chin to accept the kiss that followed.

Their lips moved slowly in the nighttime, and Jack was dimly aware of the moonlight shining down on his back, a burning reminder that the man he was kissing was an enemy of everything he stood for.

"Don't," Pitch muttered, moving his lips across his cheek. "Don't."

Jack didn't understand, and would have commented that now Pitch was the one being vague, but their mouths found each other again and he inhaled the scents of midnight and cool mist.

A black sandy nose forced its way between them. Jack was forced to relinquish the warmth as Onyx's large body trotted in through the window impatiently, tail flicking at her master. Pitch laughed and ran a hand through his wild hair, glanced at Jack, and laughed again.

Jack was tempted to step in and kiss him again, but Pitch just continued laughing, shook his head, and slipped into the child's bedroom, ready to relish in fear.


	6. Refined Tastes

**Author's Note:** It gets real in this one. Huzzah.

* * *

**Refined Tastes**

To say that Pitch's ending of redemption worked would be an understatement. Jack went to Jamie after school the next day to ask how the bullies were treating him, and Jamie had replied with bounding excitement that they were going to the arcade on Friday, and then to the ice cream parlor afterwards.

"I don't know what you did, but thank you. I'll stick up for myself the next time, promise."

Jack beamed proudly, ruffled Jamie's hair and shooed him along, then raced back to Pitch's lair to relay the good news. Pitch was less than interested in hearing of the escapades of humans, content to ignore Jack and bury his nose in his book.

Jack tried to take Pitch out often after that. Pitch never said thank you, never appeared grateful, but once in a while he'd brush his lips across the back of Jack's neck before entering a house, or would wind their fingers together tightly as he dragged Jack off to the next house. Jack always made sure that the children Pitch sniffed out had done something bad, and the intensity of the nightmare was determined by their bad deeds.

He made the mistake of referring to their nighttime escapades as "taking the dog out for a walk".

Pitch had gone dangerously still and dragged Jack violently forward by the collar to hiss, "I am not your _pet_, and you will never refer to me as such. _Do you understand?_"

Jack had been frightened, even though he knew he shouldn't have been because he knew Pitch wouldn't hurt him. But it hadn't been fear of a physical altercation. It had been fear that Pitch would remain angry at him for a long time; Jack didn't know why he was worried about _that_, of all things. Of course, Pitch had calmed down a few hours later after having taken in the fears of at least twenty ill-behaved children, but Jack wouldn't speak a word to him.

It was a bit awkward after that, and Jack realized that he had forgotten to mention _something_ to his fellow Guardians yet again, but he couldn't quite recall what it was.

* * *

"Someone's gotta take my shift tomorra'," Bunny pleaded, making his eyes as wide as possible and looking around at his fellow Guardians. "Please, I'm beggin' ya! I got too much work to do to bother with _Pitch_."

Jack waggled his feet, which were kicked up on the table and spreading frost through the cracks as they moved. "Don't worry, Bunny. I've got your back."

"Really? I knew I could count on ya, frostbite!" Bunny ruffled his hair violently with unbridled joy and feverishly resumed painting the eggs he had neatly tucked in a wicker basket.

"You must be careful, Jack," North warned. "I have been observing Pitch. He is somehow stronger."

Jack winced internally. That was definitely his fault. "He's probably just getting better at controlling the Fearlings. I wouldn't dwell too much on it."

"We should, if that's true," Tooth disagreed. "The Fearlings are dangerous, as are the Nightmare Men. You don't know the power Pitch is capable of if he has full control over them. We should all be on guard, especially when we go down to visit him."

"Is no one going to tell me his backstory?" Jack complained. "You guys keep talking about his ancient power and how dangerous he is, and I'm not asking for a list of all the bad stuff he's done, but a bit about his past wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Sandy flashed a myriad of symbols that Jack couldn't catch. As usual, Bunny understood it and agreed. "Sandy's right. It's not really your concern yet, mate. I'm sure you'll find out later."

"What if I don't?"

"Trust me," Bunny scoffed, pausing in his scrutiny of his painted eggs to give his young friend a serious look. "Pitch'll do something to screw everything up, and _then_ you'll hear about it. I can promise you that."

* * *

Jack refused to dwell on it, and arrived at the lair with a clear conscience early the next day. Bunny was talking crazy. Jack didn't know why, but he really felt like Pitch had turned over a new leaf. Or was at least getting there.

He doubted himself immediately when he entered the cavern.

The air was alive with Fearlings, shrieking and darting to and fro like a plague of bats. Nightmare Men wallowed along the walls mindlessly, and Jack was tossed aside as the remaining Nightmares galloped past wildly, their eyes wide with burning light.

Pitch was floating on an island of black sand, laughing joyously. Jack didn't know why he felt betrayed, but he knew he wouldn't let this trickster take him in for a fool any longer. He braced his staff against both hands and thrust it forward, letting loose a crackling stream of sharp ice.

Pitch sensed the attack and whirled, batting it away easily with shadows, but when he saw the attack for what it was, and saw its creator, his expression slipped into something very much like _disappointment_. Immediately, the darkness receded and the air quieted and he descended, hands clasped firmly behind his back as though he hadn't just gone on a crazy power ride.

"What was _that_?" Jack accused angrily.

Pitch wouldn't look at him. "I was expecting Bunnymund."

"Seriously? Easter's coming up. He can't be here. And just what were you planning to do if he showed up?"

"Certainly not what you're thinking. I need someone to test my power against."

"Let me get this straight: you wanted to _spar_? With _Bunny_?"

"I spar with all of them lately."

Jack hovered there as Pitch glided to the elegant corridor. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. _Whoa_. You do what now? Spar with them? Why haven't I heard about this?"

Pitch retreated to the sitting room, but Jack wouldn't let him have peace. He marched into that room, kicking up snowflakes with each step. He stomped to a stop in front of Pitch and crossed his arms, waiting.

With a sigh, Pitch explained, "I came to an agreement with them a little while ago. They help me build up my strength and control, I don't cause them trouble."

Jack scowled and took his usual perch atop the back of the other armchair. "That little display seemed a little extreme for sparring."

"Again, I was expecting Bunnymund."

"You'd have just made him angry with all of that. He'd have…was _that_ your angle? To rile him up?" Jack laughed. "Do you treat us all differently?"

"Thought you'd have figured it out by now."

Jack _tsk_ed. "Whatever. I was thinking I could snag a section of North's Naughty List and use that to track down kids for you. We could hit up repeat offenders."

"You're probably one of them."

"Why, how kind of you to notice," Jack said proudly. Warm fingers wrapped around his wrist and he realized that they were probably going to have a moment again. He didn't mind.

"Does that mean I can punish you, then?" Pitch asked, voice sultry and promising.

_Oh, God. Double entendres. Bad for the heart. Really bad._

It took all of Jack's willpower to say no. "A-and besides, I'm not even a kid. Hey, you ever tried taking the fear of the adults?"

Pitch sighed wearily, releasing him. There went the moment. "As usual, you have the attention span of a goldfish."

"I'm being serious."

Pitch was already picking up a book, but Jack grabbed it irritably and felt it frost over in his hands. The golden glare directed at him didn't make him surrender it. Eventually, Pitch slowly admitted, "Centuries ago, yes. But as time pressed on, I found that I preferred the taste of children's fear." His lips curled into a cat-like smile. "Far sweeter and purer than any adult's."

"Yeah?" Jack retorted defiantly. "Then let's get you back on adult fear."

"No." Pitch snatched his book back and began to scratch away the thin layer ice. "I am content as I am now."

"Well, I'm not. I'm taking you out, whether you like it or not."

Pitch murmured dryly, "What makes you think you can force me out of my hole?"

Jack honestly didn't know what he was doing when he slowly climbed down and settled himself languidly in the Nightmare King's lap, facing him.

"I could make it worth your while later."

Hell, he didn't know he could make his voice do that. It worked though, because Pitch's pupils dilated and his breath quickened and he leaned forward, book forgotten. Jack tilted his head back at the last second and sang, "_If_ you try my idea!"

It was apparently a bad idea to tease Pitch Black, because the man growled and caught the back of Jack's neck, pulling him in effortlessly. Their mouths collided, and Pitch forced his way in, unbothered by the cool temperature of Jack's mouth. He nipped and sucked his bottom lip in aggravation, and Jack damn well let him, pressing closer, forgetting the fact that he was supposed to be holding out for a reason.

The kiss slowed to something gentler. Pitch paused only for a second to slant his mouth properly over Jack's, carefully coaxing him to mimic his movements. Jack pressed tentatively back with his tongue, and found himself dealing with a near-scorching heat, but he didn't mind the sensation. In fact, it was making him dizzy and needy for air, and he removed his mouth for a quiet gasp. Pitch didn't stop. He just dragged his tongue lazily down the side of Jack's jaw to the curve beneath his ear.

Jack nudged a little closer with his whole body, and noticed that Pitch paused, if only for a second, before chuckling and ducking his head to suck greedily at his neck. Jack didn't understand what was so funny, and scooted closer again. A jolt of pleasure shot up from his groin, and he groaned, started rocking, and Pitch's hands were splayed on his back, helping him keep the rhythm.

A loud _thud_ startled him. He glanced over Pitch's wild stock of hair and saw that his staff had fallen. He ignored it, wondering why he couldn't feel that pleasure anymore, and glanced down, ready to resume moving.

As his luck would have it, his conscience cleared at the sight of his own erection straining against his pants.

_Oh, God,_ Jack thought, horrified even as Pitch moved to another tender area on his neck, because this was not good.

He was hard for Pitch Black. _Pitch Black._

Jack tensed, but Pitch did too, immediately holding Jack firm to prevent him from leaving right away. The warm lips slowly moved away from his skin – _no, wait, go back, oh, hold on, don't, forget that_ – and golden eyes met his.

"Alright," Pitch said softly, as though he was reassuring Jack that he wouldn't do anything else. Jack wasn't sure if he liked that or not. "Let's try your idea." He slowly moved his hands away, and Jack climbed off of him, but not before feeling Pitch's own arousal brush against his thigh.

_This is insanity._ Jack slowly picked up his staff and headed for the door, sparing the Nightmare King one final glance. Pitch's eyes were alight with gold, his face slightly flushed, lips swollen a bit, chest heaving slowly as though to calm himself.

Jack could only imagine how he must have looked to Pitch. He gave an awkward wave and flew out, wondering if it would be possible for him to just crawl into a hole and freeze himself to death a second time.

* * *

Jack settled on taking Pitch out on Easter. Bunny would be too busy to notice Pitch's presence, giving them enough cover to slip on behind him and sniff out some fear.

Jack was too wrapped up in his own panic to say a word to Pitch as they flew on, trailed by a small heard of Nightmares. Every time he accidentally flew too close to Pitch and his trusty steed, Onyx, Jack would cough awkwardly and increase the distance between them. He could feel Pitch's eyes burning a hole into his side, and he was proud that he ignored the urge to look over.

"Here," Pitch said suddenly after they had spent fifteen minutes flying around the outskirts of Paris. They landed on a small balcony and passed through the glass doors to the master bedroom. A young couple was in deep slumber, pressed close together in thin nightclothes, buried beneath a fluffy comforter.

Jack stared dazedly at the husband's arms wound carefully around the wife's slender waist and recalled Pitch's warmth pressing against him in the night, the kisses they had wrested from one another – though if Jack thought about it (and he really tried not to because it scattered what little focus he had), Pitch was the one initiating those moments, wasn't he? He held power over Jack, had brainwashed him into desiring the heat.

_Brainwashed? C'mon, Jackie boy, this is all on you. You keep taunting and sticking to him like a little slut and of course you're gonna start—whoa, whoa, no, I am not a…_

He was not a slut or anything even remotely along those lines. Perhaps he had a small reputation amongst certain woodland spirits about how he liked to spend his time, but he was always about good times. When he was feeling a bit lonely and needed someone to hang out with who wasn't a human, he'd find someone himself and they'd have fun. If it led to intimacy later, it wasn't because he was begging for it, but because they both felt they would enjoy it.

That had been before the Guardians though.

A deep grunt turned his eyes to the bed. Pitch had already started, and by the pleasantly surprised look on his face, it seemed that he didn't mind the mature taste of fear. The couple was stirring restlessly in each other's arms, trying to find solace from their dark fears in a tighter embrace. However, it was useless, as Pitch's black dream sand swirled mercilessly above their heads.

Jack moved closer and spread his hands across Pitch's back, pausing when the man stiffened and relaxed a second later, then continued until his arms were wound around the lean waist. Pitch brought his hands down to cover Jack's, and Jack peered around him and asked, "So what kind of nightmare are you giving them?"

Somehow it bothered him less to see adults struggle beneath their dark dreams.

"No," Pitch said quietly. "I am not giving them anything. I had forgotten that adults need no prompting for their nightmares. This dream sand is only displaying what they are already dreaming of."

Relief was a cold sigh against dark cloth. Jack buried his face against Pitch's spine and smiled, glad that for once, Pitch was not forcing thoughts into the subconscious of others in order to harvest fear. "How does it taste?"

Pitch took his time thinking of how to word his response. "Take a child's fear: sweet, innocent, and simple. It is like a staple, as rice or corn is to humans. But an adult's fear and all his or her emotions are complex and interlaced with one another, like a puzzle. It's like a delicacy, a rich food."

"Is too much of it bad for you?"

"…No," he admitted. "But I need…" He stopped and shook his head. Jack squeezed him once before letting go.

"You don't have to tell me anything. You don't owe me anything."

Pitch caught his chin before he stepped out and delivered a slow, languid kiss that left Jack's mind reeling, his body shivering, his chest heaving. But he managed to step outside and mentally freak out while he waited. Ten minutes later, Pitch joined him while Onyx flew up to join her sisters who had been busy collecting more fear. Jack sagged against him and whispered, "What is this?"

He felt, more than heard, Pitch chuckle. "Vague, Jack. You know better."

Jack turned his head to the side and considered floating up and initiating a kiss of his own, but he was distracted by a sharp whistling sound.

He shoved Pitch aside just in time to watch something sharp and black embed itself in the brick where the Nightmare King had just stood. Onyx had already come back down to allow Pitch on her back, and Jack flew after them, heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears. He could see what Pitch was streaking for so furiously: Tengu.

Jack was shooting icy lightning before Pitch could even reach the feathery bastard. The blast connected with Tengu's left wing, and he shrieked; Jack almost cracked a smile until he saw the other winged shapes rising up from the rooftops.

Suddenly, the air was alive with more of Tengu's kind, Pitch's sand, and Jack's lightning.

He knew he was going to go deaf as he body checked one of the birdbrains and struck the throat of another with the crook of his staff. These creatures had the vocal cords of demonic sirens who clearly didn't know how to harmonize.

"Shut up!" he shouted, flipping over another one's head and grasping its wings. He pushed his power out and mercilessly sent ice shooting through its feathers. It's flapping grew more labored and it stopped struggling as he struck the back of its neck with his elbow. He let it drop and flew off to help Pitch, who was engaged in a fight with five other winged beasts.

Even in battle, Pitch's back was straight and his arms moved fluidly as he directed the black sand towards the opponents within his eyesight. Onyx reared wildly as Tengu, having recovered from Jack's attack, swooped in, talons extended. Pitch caught the movement just in time and formed a scythe, swinging it about with one hand. Tengu ducked, and the distraction was enough for Pitch to snatch Onyx's mane and direct her down away from the flock.

Jack caught up with him and they raced through the air, over the lit streets of Paris and its nightlife, the birds hot on their tails. Jack glanced back to see Tengu's arms swing back. Anticipating a projectile, he twirled his staff as Tengu lobbed both arms forward. Jack blocked all of them with his staff, each black knife landing in the wood with a loud _thok!_

"Holy shit," Jack breathed. He pulled them off and dropped them one by one, seeing that they weren't knives, but the disengaged talons of Tengu. "That's pretty awesome!"

"Focus, Jack!" Pitch snapped. Jack flinched away from the harsh tone, not sure why Pitch was angry with _him_; he sure wasn't causing all of this. Still, he pushed on until they were forced to halt because more of Tengu's allies had circled around to block off their escape.

They were surrounded.

"Now would be a great time to get scary, Mr. Boogeyman," Jack laughed nervously, bumping up against Onyx's flank.

For a second, he thought Pitch was thinking of a strategy, but when he looked up briefly, he saw that the man was looking down at him, almost apologetically.

"You want scary, Jack Frost?" he whispered, and that was it.

"Well, yeah, didn't I just—"

A cry much more terrible than those produced by Tengu and his kind blasted through Jack's eardrums and all he could do was curl in on himself like the scared frost spirit he was and try to fight through the migraine that was beating down on him. He felt his nails scratch his cold scalp, his fingers tugged painfully at his hair, and he tasted bile as the fear, the _fear_ tried to push its way from his stomach to his mouth, trying to work itself into a scream. He dragged his fingers down the side of his neck, felt his skin give, knew he was bleeding, and he cracked his eyelids and bent his head back, mouth wrenched open.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, _he couldn't breathe_, and that wasn't the Pitch he had shared a tender embrace with today that he was seeing.

It was the Nightmare King; he had one ashy hand elegantly splayed in the air to direct the Fearlings and Nightmare Men which swarmed the winged creatures. His hands moved like a conductor, lightly, playfully, and the toothy grin stretched across his face – Jack had _kissed_ that mouth, had thought about that mouth doing things to him, oh, _God_ – and his mouth slowly opened to just take in the night air, and Jack knew he was feeding on the sheer terror from the birdmen and _him_.

The living shadows latched onto the winged creatures, smothering them in darkness, and Pitch _laughed_.

Jack wanted to cover that mouth with his hands, because that wasn't even the laugh Pitch Black had thrown at him when he had been fighting the Guardians. Now the sound was a dark trumpet, far more eager and ecstatic and gleeful than before.

It was too cruel.

And still, Jack felt like reaching up and dragging Pitch away to a secret location, someplace where he could just remove that hurtful sound from his lungs and heal him.

Instinct had him pushing up before he even saw Tengu break free and lunge.

Talons sunk into his chest and raked down on a painful angle.

Jack screamed, and his head felt like it was going to explode, but he drew his knees up and kicked out, dislodging Tengu and his claws from his personal space. He saw his blood arc coldly in the Paris lights as he dropped heavily onto a roof thirty feet below.

He lay there for a few seconds with glazed eyes that could only look up and stare at Pitch, silhouetted by the moon. Then, the Nightmare King turned slowly and saw him, saw the gashes across his chest, and only one aspect of his demeanor changed.

His face.

Once raw with emotion, it was as though a wall of ice had formed over it. Pitch turned away to focus on drowning the birdmen in darkness. Jack forced himself up with his staff and saw something in the distance, bounding closer across the rooftops. His heart sank.

_Worst timing _ever_, Bunny!_

Bunnymund stopped four roofs away and stared up with horror at the sight, but it wasn't long before he was whipping out and flinging several of his homemade explosives. The colors detonated on high, scattering the Fearlings long enough for the birdmen to make their escape. Pitch tugged sharply at Onyx's mane, and he and his herd of Nightmares raced away. Bunny shouted his name and started to give chase.

With the last of his strength, Jack nipped Bunny's tail with frost as the Pooka unknowingly leapt over him. Bunny whirled, distracted, caught one look of Jack's face, and snapped, "Are ya' nutters? You here to mess with my egg hunt?"

"No, no," Jack rasped as quickly as he dared, because his throat, _God_, his _throat_.

"I have less than no time for you," Bunny said, looking back to make sure he could still see Pitch in retreat. "Did you not just see Pitch fly overhead? He's not supposed to be out without an escort, _especially_ on this night!"

"Bunny, no—"

"_What_, Jack?!"

Bunny finally looked, _really_ looked at the frost spirit, and saw the blood, the torn blue hoodie, the red stain that was spreading and didn't look like it would stop, the way Jack clung to the crook of his staff for support.

"Jack," Bunny breathed, racing forward and catching him as he stumbled. "Did you try going after him alone? We gotta get you somewhere safe. I'll drop a tunnel and you can follow it to the Warren, and I'll go after Pitch."

Jack couldn't stop shaking his head. "No, no, no, wrong—"

"You're delirious, mate." Bunny thumped the roof and the magic in his step produced the dark tunnel, and he tried to gently deposit Jack in it, but Jack resisted and pushed him away. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting you chase Pitch with me."

"Don't," Jack rasped out. "You've…got it…wrong."

Bunny's ears twitched aggressively. "I call it like I see it, mate, and how I see it is he—"

"Did _nothing_ to me," Jack snapped with a little more strength, but immediately felt drained from his outburst. "Finish…hiding eggs. I'll…tell…later."

"But your wounds," Bunny protested as the tunnel closed, unused.

"Heal fine," Jack laughed weakly. "Go. The sun'll…catch up soon."

"Can you make it home?"

"Yeah…lemme rest here…for a few. _Go._"

Bunny hesitated, then nodded, heading off. "Soon as you're perky, fly home! Pitch has a lot of explainin' to do!"

Jack didn't stay standing to watch him go. He lurched backwards, expecting his wind to catch him, but reality was a hard roof. He coughed a few times before wriggling to get comfortable. As soon as he closed his eyes though, he heard a sharp neigh.

Onyx.

Jack frowned. "Where's…Pitch?" Onyx descended next to him and nudged him with her sleek nose. He groaned and weakly pushed her away. "Get lost. Can't move."

Onyx snorted and stamped her hooves impatiently, then dissolved into sand and forced herself under Jack's body, pushing him up and reforming under him. Jack managed to stir a bit of wind under him to bring him up and forward so he could grip Onyx's mane. "Alright…take me home."

The horse surged forward at his faint words, and Jack shut his eyes, feeling the wind whistling through his hair comfortingly, a soothing whisper that said he would be okay.

He was impressed, when he opened his eyes after a little while, at the speed Pitch's Nightmares could travel, because he could see that they were galloping over Burgess and the morning light was soothing. "That's great, Onyx," he sighed. "Just land over there."

But the Nightmare either didn't understand him or was just plain ignoring him, because she skirted the pond and went straight to her master's lair. Jack couldn't even protest as the darkness surrounded him. He shut his eyes and waited for the beast to stop moving. When Onyx did, he looked around and saw that they were in the lonely bedroom Pitch kept.

Onyx went by the bed and unceremoniously dumped Jack on it, flicking an ear at his pained groans. She slipped out and left him alone, and he carefully curled in on himself. The bed smelled musty and he was sure he would be covered in dust when he woke up, but the cushioning felt so nice beneath him that he didn't care. He pressed his nose into the pillow and coughed when, yup, he was rewarded with a nice lungful of dust.

He sneezed, cleared his throat, and shut his eyes, forcing peace upon his mind. The pain had ebbed away greatly during the ride, and he knew his body was already knitting together. That was good. Probably wouldn't even scar.

_Hurry back, Pitch. We need to seriously talk._

* * *

Something was nudging his hand. A gentle warmth pressed into his palm, and he slowly uncurled his fingers to let it spread. A soft breath against his neck just made him drowsier, made him want to grasp the warmth and pull it close and sleep the rest of eternity with it.

"Jack."

There were fingers prodding his palm insistently, and he grunted indecipherably. The fingers closed around his hand, and he closed his fingers over the other's, sighing contentedly.

"Jack." Urgent, low. "Give me a sign. You're alright?"

His mouth felt dry, but he felt his magic stir, and he made sure to frost Pitch's fingers over well. Pitch laughed against his cheek, but his voice hitched and Jack put a little more ice on Pitch's hand to reassure him that he was okay.

"Alright," Pitch said. "I get it. Don't give me frostbite."

"Hurts?" Jack whispered.

Another hand was immediately at his neck. "Does it hurt? Where?"

"No. Hurts you?"

"Wha—the frost?"

Jack swallowed and nodded.

"Oh, you little…Jack, look at me."

Jack's eyelids inched up. Pitch's face was smooth and solemn; his eyes were unreadable. Jack managed a smile. "Welcome home."

Pitch did not smile back. "Let me see your wounds."

Jack shook his head tiredly. "M'alright. Sleepy, but I feel it's all healed. Doesn't even hurt anymore."

Pitch forced him to stretch out onto his back anyway, hands uncharacteristically gentle and careful. He pushed Jack's hoodie up a few inches, pausing to admire the crystalline strip of skin. "His claws didn't touch there," Jack said softly.

Pitch made a humming noise in the back of his throat, signifying he didn't care, and dipped his head. Jack gasped as a hot tongue was dragged across is skin just above his belt buckle. "All is well here, then."

The blue fabric was taken higher, as was the heat. Jack squirmed.

"I see nothing here." Pitch was definitely enjoying this.

Higher. More heat.

"_Pitch._"

"Shhh. You don't seem to be hurt here either."

When he went higher and his tongue touched Jack's skin the next time, the frost spirit gasped. It didn't hurt, but the flesh there was sensitive and tingled. Pitch paused immediately. "This is where the wound ended?"

Jack nodded, looking down. There was dried blood all across that area, but there wasn't even a scar. "See? I'm alright."

Pitch ignored him and bunched the fabric all the way up to his armpits. Jack struggled minimally, too tired to move, waiting for Pitch to finish inspecting him. Pitch seemed to be reassured by what he saw, and carefully tugged the hoodie back down, much to Jack's disappointment. He had been expecting more, well, tongue.

Pitch saw the look on his face and smirked. "Something the matter?"

Jack looked away. "No." Then he yawned.

A hand fell over his eyes, forcing them closed. "Sleep now."

"Thought immortals don't sleep."

"No, but they can. And they do rest while they are recovering from injuries."

"Oh. Okay…sorry," Jack murmured to the darkness behind his eyelids.

"For what?"

Jack had no idea. He just felt like he had to apologize. Then he remembered something. "Bunny wants to kill you."

"I will deal with your Guardians." The displeasure was evident in the smooth statement. "In the meantime, rest." He pulled his hand away from Jack's forehead, not before brushing some of the silvery locks to one side. The touch disappeared and the air was still.

"Hn," Jack replied, ready and willing for sleep to take him away. "No goodnight kiss?"

Silence reigned.


	7. Tactics Talk

**Tactics Talk**

When Jack woke, he was alone. He could feel it. No one was in the lair. He could still feel darkness lurking, but that wasn't unusual. Pitch's evil always lurked in the tunnels, whether he was here or not. Beside him lay his staff, and as he took it up and slowly rolled off the bed, he noticed the blood stains which mottled the sheets. He winced and hoped Pitch wouldn't be too irritated. It wasn't Jack's fault that he had bled out because he had taken a blow for the guy.

Jack paused in stretching and ran a hand through his hair.

"Aw, geez."

He had jumped in front of Pitch. Had taken a blow for _Pitch_. He had gotten hurt for—who was he kidding? He'd probably do it again, and he didn't know why.

…No, he knew why. It was because he was addicted to the Nightmare King and his kisses and his touches and the moments when he appeared to be something kinder and gentler than the tyrant of fear that he was.

_Okay, take five steps back and think this through…_

His pocket was heating up, and he dug his hand in and pulled out the large ice snowflake North had custom made a while ago. He hadn't given it much thought because it usually heated when Pitch had guests, but it could also be used to send alerts to individual Guardians. Right now, squeezing it, Jack could feel urgency radiating through it, and he felt in his head that the message was coming from North.

He wondered why North would be calling him until he remembered, _shit_, Pitch had said he would deal with the Guardians and Bunny had practically threatened to skin Pitch alive, and that was probably—no, _definitely_ why he was being summoned.

He was in the sky in ten seconds, at the Pole in ten minutes. He had sped the winds up greatly with his magic. When he brushed past the gruff yetis and approached the Globe Room, he heard harsh shouts that he took as confirmation that Pitch Black was in the house.

He peeked in and saw Pitch sitting at the table, arms crossed, ramrod straight against the back of the chair. His face was set on bored mode, but Jack could see that his eyes were bright and alert. Pitch was definitely paying attention, but he was purposely pissing the Guardians off at the same time.

"—and that still doesn't explain what you were doing out there on _Easter!_" Bunny was hollering, jabbing a furry paw at the tall shade.

"What were you trying to do with those Fearlings, Pitch?" Tooth asked. Jack was surprised by the venom in her voice. Usually, when she dealt with Pitch, she at least coated her distaste with a false sugary tone.

Sandy caught sight of Jack and smiled in relief, waving at him. Jack held up a finger to wait, but Sandy went about trying to get everyone's attention. It wasn't working, and North went on, "What happened to Jack? Bunny says he was covered in bloody things and could hardly stand! What did you do to him?"

"Nah, Jack said Pitch wasn't responsible for that, but I don't believ'im for a second," Bunny said, glaring down at Pitch.

Sandy waved his short arms and tossed symbols here and there, but no one took notice.

"If he is being in trouble, we must know," North pressed.

Sandy flew up right in front of him, slapped his hands on those red cheeks, and twisted his head towards the door. Jack grinned when they all looked at him, not surprised when Pitch's face remained unchanged. "How's it hangin'?"

The chorus of "Jack!" was comforting as he stepped all the way in. Tooth gave a tiny shriek, Bunny grimaced, Sandy's eyes widened, and North marched forward immediately and seized Jack by the shoulders.

"You are okay?"

"Huh?" Jack looked down and saw that his clothing was still a terrible sight for sore eyes. "Oh, right. Can I get some new threads?"

As North hastily summoned a yeti, Jack walked to the table and greeted everyone. "Guess the party's already started without me. I think we can all sit down and have a nice chat."

Tooth cast Pitch a wary glance and said, "Jack, we can't. We still don't know what happened last night, and Pitch refused to tell us until you got here, and…there are others that need to speak with us too."

"You'd might as well call 'em in," Bunny said. "We need to sort this out."

Tooth nodded while North returned with the clothes and directed Jack to another room to change. Jack could have sworn that Pitch stared at him hungrily for a second, probably at the thought of Jack's lack of clothing. The frost spirit ducked his head, making sure his blush was well-hidden.

As he changed – _alone_ – in an empty room filled with maps and globes and bookshelves, he briefly entertained the thought that perhaps, when they got this mess sorted out, he could somehow magically convince Pitch and the Guardians to get along. Maybe. He really thought this new method he had introduced to Pitch about taking fear from adults and naughty children could be the start of something new.

…He was probably just grasping air now.

When he stepped back out, he saw new faces at the table that made his blood stir with excitement. He recognized the elemental immediately. He had seen the earth creature once before, flying over Ireland. In his human imitation, the spirit had a middle-aged man's face and dirty short hair, and his skin was tinted green. Jack could see moss growing along his face, down his neck, beneath the tattered clothes he wore. At either side of him were fair young maidens with daggers strapped to their waists. They had human features, but they looked ethereal. Jack supposed they were nymphs, though he didn't know what kind. He was still new to the whole spirit classification thing.

The other guest made him hesitate in his approach to the table. This guest reminded him of Pitch with his tall stature and placid expression. Jack saw the pointed ears and made the connection to elves, but the skin, a deep grey-violet, bought him great confusion. This guest also had guards of his kind on either side of him, and their armor was bright and dark at the same time, their grey eyes calm and stern.

Jack grimaced. Clearly this was bigger than he thought. "Soooo," he said, trying to tug a little life into the meeting as he flopped into a seat well away from the guests, "how're we gonna start this?"

The ancient earth elemental smiled kindly. The elf…thing, or whatever he was, glared at his lackadaisical posture and informal tone and directed a crisp question towards Tooth in another language. The hummingbird fairy smiled a little too brightly and said, "Jack is one of us. There's no need for secrets."

"He is a child," the dark-skinned guest declared in English, frowning at Jack.

Jack bristled, but North cut in with a hearty chuckle. "Now is the time to be introducing, yes?"

"Definitely," Jack agreed, staring defiantly at the pointy-eared hotshot.

North gestured to the elemental. "Jack, I believe you know Admon, an ancient keeper of all things green."

Jack nodded politely. "Nice to meet you sir."

Admon tipped his head.

"And," North said with warning in his voice directed at Jack, "this is Fuinor, king of dark elves."

"Dark elves," Jack repeated, trying to force a little wonder in his voice. "Interesting. Nice to meet you."

Fuinor seemed extremely disinterested and looked at North impatiently. "We are done with introductions. Onto business."

North nodded compliantly and gestured to Pitch, who raised one eyebrow. "Oh, don't look at me. I'm not the one who should start the story." Twin eclipses turned Jack's way. "Well, Frost?"

_Last names? Really?_ Jack rolled his shoulders, still feeling the dried blood on his skin beneath the new hoodie. "Right. Where should I start?"

Bunny dove right in. "Why was Pitch out yesterday? He didn't have an escort!"

Jack held up his hands. "Okay, we'll start there. This goes back to North's shift. You know, when you were supposed to take Pitch out for the fear thing?"

North frowned uncomfortably.

"After you guys came back, I went to Pitch and took him out." There were protests from his friends, and Sandy's symbols flashed with rapid alarm. "Wait, guys, just listen! I wanted to see that he got what he was promised."

"If it makes any difference," Pitch cut in with amusement, "he was just as disgusted with it as you were, North."

Jack shrugged. "I couldn't really stand it the first time, and I made him stop, just like you did, North. We came back to Burgess, and I saw some kids bullying Jamie."

"Think I oughtta teach the kid how to put up a fight?" Bunny suggested eagerly.

Jack laughed. "Naw. He didn't get hit. But later that night, I took Pitch to the kids and…" He could see their brows dipping, whether in confusion or displeasure, he didn't know. "They really did deserve it. And besides, it didn't turn out bad in the end. Pitch…"

Was staring at him intensely. Jack could immediately tell that Pitch did _not_ want him sharing how he had ended the nightmares.

"Pitch made sure the dreams weren't too scary," Jack finished lamely, hoping his pause hadn't been too noticeable.

"I don't think punishing children through nightmares is the right thing to do," Tooth disagreed, wings fluttering nervously.

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, none of you seemed like you were going to escort him, so I did it. And we kept doing it all the way up until when Bunny asked for someone to take over his shift. When I went down there to—oh, yeah, that's right! What's the big idea, sparring with Pitch and not telling me?"

At least they had the decency to look ashamed.

"We didn't want you involved, mate," Bunny grumbled. "These people visitin' the guy are dangerous, and as much as it _pains_ me to say it, we can't let him go defenseless. We helped him out, just a little."

"But even if he had control over the Fearlings, lacking in strength wouldn't do him any good!" Jack tossed back smartly. "That's why I had to take him out, since none of you would."

"That is why he seemed stronger every day," North huffed.

"Well, yeah! When I went down for Bunny's shift, I got to thinking…" Jack paused, heart stuttering as he recalled exactly _how_ he had gotten to thinking. "About the adult humans. So yesterday, I took him out to take the fear of the adults."

"And how did that go?" Tooth inquired skeptically.

Jack beamed and flung a hand out at Pitch, who sighed dramatically and answered, "Unlike children, who usually require Sanderson's prodding for a good night's dream, or my urging for a nightmare, adults do not. Last night, there was no need for my dream sand. Adults dream alone, and their nightmares are easy to locate." He spread his hands simply. "I found it…enjoyable."

The other Guardians stared at him, and Jack had to struggle to hold back his laughter. Clearly, this scenario had never occurred to them, and they never thought they would see the day when Pitch found something other than terrorizing children's dreams _enjoyable_.

Bunny was the first to shake his head. "I don't buy it. You're a right monster. You get off on everyone's terror."

Pitch grinned in a way that was meant to antagonize the Pooka directly. "Well, yes."

_You're not helping your argument,_ Jack thought, glaring at Pitch.

The dark elf, Fuinor, rapped the table with calloused knuckles and barked, "You all waste my time! There was a reported attack last night, a stirring of a dark flock. Speak, for I grow impatient."

Jack _desperately_ wanted to tell his Royal Assness to go suck something not so nice, but something in the back of his head reminded him that, one, he did not want to get his throat cut because that guy's sword was big, and two, he really wanted to get out of here so he could feel Pitch's lips on his skin, maybe take the initiative and divest the Nightmare King of his robe and run his own hands down that lean torso…

"Well, frost spirit?" Fuinor spat.

Jack really was going to say, "Fine, you don't have to be a douche bag, okay?" However, it came out as a weak "okay".

Pitch, to his surprise, looked like he wanted to murder Fuinor. Jack felt flattered, but did as Fuinor asked. "We only got around to one house for the adults. When we started looking for another, we were attacked by Tengu and his friends."

Fuinor appeared annoyed, but Admon kindly informed Jack in a thick brogue, "I think you'll be meanin' _the_ tengu, laddie."

"What, is he head honcho of those birdmen?"

Admon shook his head. "Whoever you saw as leader was not called 'Tengu'. That is the name a' their race. Asian origin, isn't that right, Toothiana?"

Tooth nodded sweetly, feathers flaring and settling. "But why did you think it was the name of an individual, Jack?"

Jack crossed his arms sheepishly and tried to shrink in his sweater. "No particular reason," he mumbled, knowing Pitch was probably laughing inside. "It's not like I know every race out there, geez."

"The tengu attacked?" North prompted.

"Uh, yeah. Pitch's sand wasn't enough so he swapped it out for Fearlings and Nightmare Men, and that got the job done."

"And one of them caught you?" Bunny asked gravely, indicating to his chest.

"No, no! I was…careless, and one of the tengu clawed me."

_Careless enough to think that you actually had to jump in front of Pitch. Careless to think he actually gives a damn._

He knew Pitch didn't, because despite all of those stolen moments they had been having, Jack was pretty sure it would all be over once this mess was sorted out. He took a deep breath and threw his hands up. "So there's the story! Maybe his Highness over there would like to tell us why he's here now?"

Fuinor ignored the flippant address. "Someone has been sending tengu among my people and wresting their powers from them. A man named Faust." He nodded to Pitch. "You know him."

"I do," Pitch confirmed. "He's come to me often, asking for shadows. I have denied him each time, and his displeasure has grown."

"He's set his sights on dark magic. In any case, I and my army are ready to fight alongside you temporarily. We will hunt that dog down and take back what is rightfully ours."

"Has he gotten your magic?" Jack couldn't help but ask.

Fuinor did not mind the question. "No, but he has tried and succeeded with others, and he has had help. The tengu have sided with him, though I know not why. Unfortunately, I cannot prove it yet. There are other dark creatures amongst his ranks as well, but during the last raid they made on my people, I saw one which made me question who is truly after the dark magic."

Sandy threw up a question mark.

"Irdu Lili."

Jack wondered if he should be worried when he saw the distaste that crossed the faces of his fellow Guardians.

"Yes. Incubi usually have no need for great power, and they work alone. Selfish creatures, the lot of them. But when someone such as Irdu is involved, it is clear that there is more to this than Faust simply wanting to expand his magic for the sake of his insignificant research."

Jack was lost. He didn't understand any of this. He didn't understand why "someone such as Irdu" made this far more complicated. He _did_ understand that someone was trying to steal Pitch's shadows, and that someone was named Faust. Jack knew the guy was a little uptight, what with how he blew up at him for freezing his instruments of alchemy (it had been an accident over fifty years ago, he had been having a little too much fun), but Faust had seemed pretty mellow otherwise. Why would he try to gain more power? He was practically a simple scientist.

"Faust couldn't be under Irdu's spell," Tooth was saying. "He knows enough to get out of pretty difficult magic."

"Perhaps Irdu suggested all of this, and Faust liked the idea," North threw out there.

Admon shook his head slowly. "Why would Irdu suggest? He's not the type to cause wide scale mischief. He keeps his dealings close an' personal, and they usually only involve humans, one individual at a time."

Jack remembered how those rust-red eyes had practically undressed him and grimaced. If he as a spirit was shaken by Irdu's influence, he could only imagine how vulnerable the humans were.

"We need a strategy," Fuinor demanded. "My informants are tracking Faust at a safe distance. His location will always be known. However, he's heavily guarded, and as much as it would please me to cut out his heart, we need to take him alive so that I might retrieve the magic stolen from my people."

"What's the word on his position now?" Bunny asked.

"Canada." Fuinor spat the word out like it was a bad bite of fruit. "He is a fool if he thinks he can escape me, but I cannot move my people against him or the tengu. There is no tangible proof that they have allied with one another. To attack the tengu now would gain the attention of their king and start a war that no one needs."

_Huh. You'd think a dark elf would be all about war._ Jack voiced a small concern. "Why should I get involved? This is a battle between spirits."

"Jack," Tooth chided. "You're a Guardian."

"Of children," Jack reminded her. "Look, I'm not saying I won't help, but I just don't see how much use I'll be. I'm clearly the weakest and youngest and I don't know the first thing about any of these creatures. You guys have history and backstories on these guys. All I can do is call it like I see it."

"We don't need you, frost spirit," Fuinor intoned. "Go frolic with the humans you love so much."

"Nah, think I'll stick around, thanks." Jack ignored the warning look North was giving him and pointed to Pitch. "Let me get this straight. That crotchety old alchemist wants Pitch's power, and he's got an army of featherbrains to back him up, but you can't prove that they're working together, and if you try to attack, you'll just screw yourselves over."

Fuinor didn't look very pleased with the crude summary, but inclined his head, a gesture for him to continue.

"What made you think Faust was using the tengu in the first place?"

"We captured one," Fuinor said, opening a hand to one of his guards. A sharp object was placed on his palm and he threw it at Jack, who caught it and stared at its intricate design and shrugged. It looked like a claw. Fuinor looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "He wouldn't talk, but that was torn from his talon. Those designs belong to Faust. They are easily identifiable as his signature. All prominent alchemists have their own stylized signatures they place on their work. No other alchemist would dare imitate another's. Faust is the most prominent of those known, and the most powerful."

"What's this for?" Jack asked nervously, though he had a pretty gruesome idea.

"Why," the dark elf king replied almost pleasantly, "that is what they attach to the ends of their talons to make it easier to rip the intestines from humans."

Jack felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat. Had Tengu…_the_ tengu he thought to be leader of that flock been wearing them? No, obviously not. All of his intestines were still stuck in his frozen body, and the clawing hadn't been too deep. He slowly passed the extension to Sandy, who grimaced upon seeing it and nodded in confirmation before handing it down the line.

"What about you?" Jack asked Admon. "Why are you here?"

"Faust has been practicing with this new power he has acquired," the ancient spirit said, deeply distressed. "The land's a' dyin'."

"I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary though."

"You inhabit close to the humans," Admon reminded him. "But far beyond in the wilderness the humans will not venture to, the land grows sick. Faust has been killin' my people, and many others."

"We do need a strategy," North cut in, voice unusually gruff and stoic. "But not today." To Jack's surprise, he turned to Pitch and said, "You will be welcome to come here for meetings, so long as you keep your shadows away from Faust."

Pitch dragged lazy eyes around the room. "While I am not usually one to form alliances, I also hate to share. Therefore, I swear to deny Faust and all who come to me. I will help you put him back in his place."

"And you be on good behavior here," North added quickly. "If you mess up my Workshop, I squash you."

Pitch chuckled and rose, pressing fingers delicately to the tabletop. "Then we are adjourned for the day?" He nodded to Fuinor. "You must keep us informed on all of Faust's movements, and you, Admon, must have you children watch the tengus' movements. Should you gain proof that they are all working together, you must report. I shall deal with Irdu. He is not someone to be taken lightly, incubus that he is."

Jack felt a little starstruck. He had never seen Pitch take charge so calmly like that, and his voice had gotten a little deeper and more commanding, as though he were a…

Pitch was already melting into the shadows. "You know where to find me."

When he was gone, Jack looked around the room and smiled a bit. "Guess that means I'm free to go?"

"Be careful, mate," Bunny warned, watching him twirl his staff to leave. "We're being watched, even if the enemy's maintainin' their distance."

"Correction: _you're_ being watched," Jack sang confidently. "They don't care about me, but I'll give them something to watch if they try to mess with me."

"Tengu are strong, Jack," Admon said gently. "You got lucky in your last encounter with them. Next time, you may not be so fortunate."

"Oh, thanks for the reminder. I need a bath." He scratched at the dried blood under his hoodie, grimaced as he felt it lodge beneath his nails. "Uh, great talk, guys! Gimme a call when you have something important. Does anyone want to take Pitch out, or am I stuck with doing it?"

None of the Guardians looked very pleased at the thought of even having to let Pitch out, but Tooth quietly suggested, "Jack should be the one. He's not under surveillance, and I don't think Pitch is either, and he'll be safer that way."

Jack's hands twitched irritably. Was that all they saw him as? Weak? They thought he was so weak that he should hang out with the Nightmare King? _I'm even worse off with him._

Trying not to frown, he said his goodbyes and caught the wind back to America, pushing the prospect of danger and war far from his mind.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hi, yeah, I'll comment on the bottom since saying this stuff on top would spoil stuff. First off, to those of you who have been googling the names and creatures, good for you! Ah, but Fuinor and Admon aren't real people. I'm sure there's a legend about the king of dark elves or some great earth spirit, but I pulled these names off the internet. Although they _do_ mean stuff, so you can go google the meanings. I guess.

Not much action between Pitch and Jack here. Sorry (not). Thanks for the reviews, to those who have been.


	8. Indulging in Indulgence

**Indulging in Indulgence**

Waiting was the worst idea _ever_.

Jack didn't understand how his friends could muster up all this patience. He didn't understand how they could just sit around and do nothing and wait for something to happen. Of course, the Guardians resumed their daily routines. North and Bunny returned to their work. Sandy continued to sprinkle dreams across the world. Tooth continued to collect teeth, but she did not leave her palace anymore. She had grown far more flighty lately, knowing that she was under watch.

Jack felt a little angry that he wasn't being taken seriously. Sure, the children believed in him and knew that he had played a major part in helping to vanquish Pitch Black, but in the spirit world, he was given less than little regard.

Pitch was very aloof about the whole thing. North had completely removed the wards from around his lair, thus granting the Boogeyman freedom to wander the night once more, unsupervised, so long as he didn't interfere with Sandy, steal his dream sand, or corrupt the pleasant dreams he was giving children. Pitch never voiced his agreement, but had silently stuck to the compromise ever since.

Jack was left alone. Summer came along and he could only bring frosty joy to uninhabited locations, mountainous regions, and a few places far up north and way down south. Jamie was almost completely free. He and his friends constantly visited Jack's humble frosty abode, ecstatic to have summer and winter mixed together, however they only went skating when Jack was around. This was on Jack's insistence. He didn't feel safe leaving children to skate over ice under the hot sun. If the ice melted and he wasn't around, he wasn't sure he could live with himself if one of the children got hurt.

Jamie put his utter faith in Jack either way. He mentioned one day in early July that he could introduce his new friends to Jack, make them believe. "Mick's always one for a snowball fight."

"Maybe during winter, bud," Jack replied. "When I can show off."

He kept his pond and the trees around it well covered in snow and ice, but that wasn't enough. He tried visiting the Guardians' homes, tried coercing them into playing a few games with him to keep his mind off the boredom, but they were focused on their jobs and their surroundings. They would tell him to go home, that it wasn't safe for him to be around them while they were being watched.

The only time they got together now was during strategy meetings. The number of spirits at these gatherings increased slightly, as did their variety. Jack began to feel extremely out of place. They all came together, and there were multiples of each kind, but Jack could not find a single frost spirit. North's Workshop was a gathering ground for all magical beings, and they came to voice their complaints about the sickness and death and disease spreading through their people and habitats because of Faust's "practice" and the tengu who terrorized them.

The meetings were too serious. Jack didn't want to listen to the tearful tales of spirits. It wasn't that he wasn't sympathetic to their pain and suffering, but because he wasn't used to this sort of thing. He was the Guardian of Fun. This what he had been talking about when the Man in the Moon first chose him. He wasn't made for "hard work and deadlines".

Pitch wouldn't even look at him anymore.

The only time they saw each other was at meetings now, and every time Jack tried to get his attention, that ashy face would turn the other way, quite on purpose. Jack didn't know why. He was pretty sure he hadn't said or done anything to piss him off. In fact, he hadn't actually spoken to Pitch since that first big meeting between all of them. Jack supposed it was a good thing. He hadn't found himself craving Pitch's contact, and he hadn't thought of him too often.

Still, when his mind wandered and happened upon a memory of Pitch Black, Jack found himself _missing_ him. He started to leave meetings before they even began; no one paid attention to him while he was there anyway. They wouldn't miss him. He'd check in with North, do a quick survey of the people in the Globe Room who had urgent business to speak of, and then fly out. He always tried to catch Pitch's eye, but the man was always keeping to himself in his own dark corner, eyes closed until the meeting started.

Jack's heart twisted. He stopped coming to the meetings altogether.

* * *

The summer heat was unbearable. No one was coming around to the pond today. Lately, Jamie and company had preferred the local pool. Jack was hardly insulted. Summer was usually the season he lay dormant, when he migrated to the Pole or Antarctica and played around. He didn't know why he was sticking so close to home this time.

After another long hot hour spent in the sun, he could actually feel himself sweating. With a groan, he reached up and grabbed his staff which was hanging from a branch above him. The relief was immediate, and he iced his skin over a few times before jumping down from his perch and taking a walk over the ridge. His pond was completely unfrozen, him being too lazy to muster up the will to keep his home in perfect frosty conditions. It wasn't that the sun made him weak. He just didn't feel up to moving.

When he reached Pitch's hole, he hesitated. How welcome would he really be, after having been ignored by the dark shade?

With the sun beating down on his back, he decided he didn't really care.

He slipped down the entrance and immediately repeated to himself that he didn't care if Pitch wanted him here or not. He was _staying_ because it was _cool_ down here.

"Ooooh, thank you, thank you, _thank_ you for living underground," Jack praised softly and fervently, flying through the comfortable air. He threw a nice gust of wind through the cave and put a little snow into it, shivering in delight when the soft flakes touched him.

"I'd say don't touch the thermostat…"

He jumped and looked down. Pitch was staring up at him, looking disapprovingly at the white stuff littering his cavern floor. He slowly dragged dual eclipses back up to Jack's still figure.

"However, I don't possess one, so the order would be useless."

Jack gave a sheepish smile as he descended. "Sorry. It's just really hot up and this place is so nice."

Pitch arched an eyebrow and waited. Jack took a quiet breath. At least he wasn't being told to get out yet.

"A-anyway, I thought it might be okay if I hung out down here for a little while. Since you're kinda like one of the good guys now, and good guys share their hideouts."

Pitch's face grew dark, yet he smiled. "Is that what you think?"

"Well, yeah. It's a proven fact in stories that good guys let their allies in."

"No, Frost. I meant, you think that's what I am? That I'm one of the good guys now?"

Jack pressed his lips together in a very thin line. It was true, he was stretching that phrase like saltwater taffy. He knew Pitch was the furthest thing. Hell, he was pretty sure the guy couldn't be happier if all the Guardians disappeared from the face of the planet in the very next minute. "Okay, fine, whatever. Can I hang here?"

Pitch regarded him quietly, then nodded and slinked off to his shadowy corridor. Jack called out hopefully, "And can I add a little snow?"

Those broad shoulders stiffened visibly beneath the black robe, but Jack leapt up for joy when Pitch mumbled, "Just don't make a mess of things."

* * *

"You disturb me," the muffled voice said over his prone body.

Jack stirred slowly from beneath his giant snowdrift and opened his eyes before giving a happy laugh. He hadn't made a mess of the lair, and it had only snowed around him, but now he was buried beneath a heavy pile of snow. It looked like he had been buried alive, save for his face. It felt nice though.

Pitch was looking down at him as though he were a troublesome child he had the displeasure of watching over. "Are you quite finished yet?"

Jack squirmed. "Think I'll take you up on that tea." At Pitch's confused look, he reminded him, "You offered me tea."

"That was ages ago. I retracted that offer."

"Make a new one?"

Pitch shook his head and headed for the corridor, but Jack saw the small smile he bore, and wriggled out of his snowdrift to follow.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked when they reached the kitchen.

"Tell me, which store stocks your usual brand of stupidity? I simply must know," Pitch replied as he put the kettle on the stove.

"Hey! It's just that you haven't really talked to me at all since…"

_Since I took you out to eat adult fear and our moment was interrupted by a flock of birdbrains._

"That's your fault."

"But at meetings, you just ignore me."

"I ignore everyone until we discuss what we came there for."

"You don't invite me over."

"I've never invited you over."

Jack frowned unhappily and hopped up on the counter, swinging his feet. _He's right. And since when did I give a shit?_

Oh, yeah. Since Pitch started tempting him with promising touches. Jack really craved that right now. He grazed sky blue eyes over the simplistic kitchen. It had been a while since he had been in here. Then he looked quietly over at the man who was rifling through a set of canisters, probably tea leaves. Never in his life had he thought he might see Pitch Black domesticated.

No, that probably wasn't the right word. Pitch was still the cruel son of a bitch Jack had fought against. But something had changed. It wasn't the posture, or the figure, though Pitch was looking healthier than ever. His nightly rounds were doing the trick.

Jack tilted his head to the other side and squinted. It had to be Pitch's face. There was a subtle change in it that Jack could see. There was still a cruel edge to it, visible in the slight cock of an eyebrow or a pleasant narrowing of the eyes when someone mentioned strategy on hunting down Faust. However, as Pitch silently pulled out an elegant teapot, Jack could see the soft glint in his eyes, the neutral line his mouth was set in instead of a disgusted scowl or a vindictive smirk.

Pitch felt Jack's stare and turned to glare at him. "Can I help you?"

Jack laughed. "I can have tea?"

A slender hand disappeared into a cupboard and pulled out two teacups in response. Jack nodded his thanks and both of them waited for the water to boil. Jack couldn't stand not doing anything thought, and after less than a minute, he asked, "What is this?"

Pitch's look was highly insulting. "Tea."

"No, no." Jack's legs swung more furiously. "I mean this…thing we have."

Pitch glanced sharply at him before smirking. "Ah."

Jack's very body quivered at the simple noise, and Pitch stalked forward until he was pressed between Jack's knees, hands on the counter as he towered over the frost spirit.

"This," Pitch said slowly, "is nothing."

His lips traced the slender jaw, all the way up to Jack's lips, where he paused carefully before pressing in. Jack immediately urged Pitch's mouth opened with his tongue and moaned into the hot cavern, letting his staff rest against the counter and wrapping his arms around Pitch's neck.

It had been a while. That was all he had to say on the subject.

Lean arms wound around his torso and pulled him closer to the edge of the counter. He groaned as Pitch nibbled on his bottom lip, then went down to his cool collar bone. Jack bucked once and was gifted with the sweet sensation of contact between his groin and Pitch's abdomen. He could feel the heat leeching through his clothes and immediately wrapped his legs around Pitch's torso to keep him there.

"Someone's overeager," Pitch murmured breathily in his ear, and Jack just bit his neck with frustration and suckled the dark skin. Pitch hummed appreciatively, apparently not worried that Jack would leave an obvious mark on his body.

The thought sent a shock of pleasure straight to Jack's groin. He was marking Pitch.

_As mine._

He sucked harder and felt a hand slip under his hoodie and crawl up his chest. Jack let go of the skin under his mouth and leaned back, letting his head knock against a cabinet as he allowed Pitch to explore his body with his hands. His hoodie was bunched up to his armpits and a hot tongue licked a long stripe all the way up to his right nipple. Pitch laved at the flushed nub experimentally before sealing his mouth over it and sucking.

Jack's stomach muscles clenched intensely and he managed to say, "T-this is…_so_…not nothing—_ah!_"

Pitch's teeth scraped chidingly over the sensitive skin before he pulled back a centimeter to murmur, "Lust, then."

"N-no," Jack said as Pitch moved onto the left nipple. "I don't be—_ngh!_ Don't believe it."

"Indulgence, then."

Jack's laugh came out as a half-sob. "No, no, no—_yes._"

A clever hand cupped his full erection through his pants and gently squeezed. The shivers racking Jack's body were violent, and he begged, "_Please_."

Pitch moved down to press his mouth to the bulge in the cloth, and exhaled. The hot breath pierced Jack's skin and made him tangle his fingers in Pitch's hair, push him down harder. "C'mon, _c'mon_…"

He looked down and saw Pitch reaching for his belt buckle, and his brain shut down when the belt leather parted; he saw the button come undone and the metal tongue of the zipper start to go down. Pitch stopped after an inch and stared before a smile slowly worked its way onto his face.

"My, my, Frost. You're dirtier than I thought."

Jack knew his entire face was red. He wasn't sure which was more embarrassing. Having the fact known that he went commando, or hearing the blatant approval in the Nightmare King's voice. He watched Pitch tongue the skin just above the base of his half-exposed cock before slowly moving down to kiss the flushed skin.

The shrill whistle of the kettle decided to interrupt them at that exact moment.

Jack's brain was screaming its disappointment as Pitch moved away with a sigh to prepare the drinks. "Leave that alone! Come back!"

"You're the one who wanted me to be a good host." But Pitch's movements were swift as he poured the water into the teapot to steep and then returned to the cooling space between Jack's legs. He leaned in for a kiss, but Jack pushed him away and pointed down to his straining member.

"You started this. Finish it." He didn't know where he got the guts to be so demanding of the Boogeyman, but he was horny and his mind was clouded with lust and heat and something else that he couldn't identify.

"Cheeky brat," Pitch said, but he was already going lower. The tip of his tongue dipped into Jack's navel and followed the sparse trail of light hair down, stopping just at the base again, and Jack _knew_ he was going to go lower when that dark head suddenly shot up, eyes bright and alert.

"What?" Jack started, but Pitch clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Someone's here." After a few moments of astute listening, Pitch relaxed, but didn't move his hand. "Oh." He didn't bother to say who the intruder was, and Jack, annoyed, dragged his tongue against the calloused flesh. Pitch looked at him, then pushed his fingers into Jack's mouth. The frost spirit was happy to suck on these if it brought Pitch's head down south, but all it did was cause Pitch's golden eclipses to disappear behind eyelids as he enjoyed the sensation.

Suddenly, Pitch ripped his fingers from Jack's mouth and substituted them with his lips, but only for a brief second. "I have a guest," he said, "and I'm afraid I'm going to have to give your tea away."

Jack tried wrapping his legs around him to prevent him from leaving, but there was more strength in those hands than he had anticipated, because they pried his limbs away effortlessly. Pitch took up the teacups and their saucers, wrapped shadows around the teapot, and glided out of the kitchen, the most picturesque of hosts. Jack sighed and zipped up his pants, wondering if Pitch had the same problem as he did. His erection was confined uncomfortably, and Jack jumped down from the counter with a grimace.

_Shit. You bastard._

"Oh." Pitch poked his head back in with a dark smile. "Do try to keep it down in here if you attempt to finish yourself off."

"You suck," Jack spat, following him.

"No, I don't believe I did."

Jack stood gaping in the dim hallway before stomping after him. "You know, you're a d—"

His comment fell short in the presence of the lovely woman in black. _Isobel, right?_

Her smile was as radiant as the sun he had been trying to escape. "Hello again. Jack, was it?"

"Y-yeah." Jack fell mute and looked awkwardly at Pitch, who pointedly ignored him and poured the tea. "Um…"

"Why are you here, Isobel?" Pitch asked rather coldly.

That smile lessened into a smirk. "I wanted to talk shop."

"I said no."

It occurred to Jack suddenly that perhaps Isobel was one of the guests who frequented Pitch with requests for power.

"You don't even know why I'm here."

"If the reason anything like your last visit…"

"Well, it's not."

Pitch straightened. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Allies. Who I'm willing to rally for you in case there's a war."

The golden eyes narrowed immediately. "What have you heard?"

"Word travels fast, even on the dark side. No one's going to make a move against you, and I don't think anyone else will side with Faust, but you're not out of the water yet." Isobel looked at him pityingly. "I was thinking you could use a few more friends on your side. Surely you don't believe those silly creatures of light can defend you if Faust gains enough power."

Pitch snorted. "No one is defending me. I fight on my own. They'll just happen to be nearby at the crucial moment. Other than that, I don't need allies."

"But you need information on Faust. I can get you that. I have spies in his ranks."

Pitch eyed her warily, then made a little shooing motion to Jack. "Get out and amuse yourself. I trust that shouldn't be too hard for the Guardian of Fun."

So Jack was turned out into the corridor. With a frustrated growl, he padded softly into the open, disappointed that his arousal had almost completely dissipated.

He wandered around the cavern, climbing stairs and walking over bridges instead of flying. He poked his nose into what tunnels he dared, but nothing stood out to him save a few Fearlings lurking. He found no Nightmares and could only assume they were on the surface world, galloping through the night zone and eating up the fear of the children they encountered. Eventually, he grew bored, but vowed to explore one last tunnel before he went back to bug Pitch and hopefully chat with the lovely Isobel.

His feet dragged him to the darkest corner of the cavern floor, a place where not even the dim glow of the portals touched. Here, he could actually hear the shadows whispering, could feel their presence in the air. He stopped at the maw of the black hole and felt blindly along the wall with his hands. Before he even set his foot in though, he realized that he had been wandering this entire time without his staff.

Slowly, he backed away, leaving frost in his footsteps, but then he paused. The Fearlings wouldn't harm him because he was Pitch's guest, right? Of course, that was only a theory. He steeled himself and marched right into the tunnel.

He stopped after two feet.

His senses were completely shot. All he smelled was cold, crisp air. He felt nothing but the ground beneath his feet. He could see nothing but darkness, and that frightened him enough to turn him around. He saw the light of the rest of the cavern behind him, but none of it permeated the solid black of the tunnel.

_"Jack."_

He froze and looked into the darkness, still seeing nothing. But that voice…

_"Jack, you have—"_

_"You have to—"_

_"—not safe here, Jack!"_

_"You've gotta—"_

_"Run, Jack."_

_"Run!"_

And that was how he found himself sprawled on his back, scrambling away from the tunnel and trying to remember how to breathe at the same time. He didn't understand what had just happened, but what he did know was that his heart was beating like the drums of war, the blood was roaring in his ears, and there was blatant fear that was just starting to let go of his heart.

Those voices had belonged to the Guardians. They had been soft and scared and urgent and they had told him to _run_.

When Jack's breathing had caught up with him and he managed to get it to a steady level, he closed his eyes, drew his legs in, and glared at the tunnel.

It hadn't been real. He _knew_ it hadn't been real. Those voices weren't memories. Certainly hadn't been something from the future. Pitch didn't have that kind of power, he was pretty sure. But Jack also knew that there were living shadows lying in that tunnel. Fearlings, Nightmare Men. They had probably been the ones whispering, sounding so desperate to turn him back.

_Conclusion? They're hiding something._

Jack grinned victoriously and crawled forward, determined to get in there. He placed a hand in the dark, and when he heard no voices, he inched forward until he was all the way in. Still silence, though he could _feel_ the life in the darkness. After a few more inches, that nameless fear began to claw at his heart, closed up his throat. The voices were louder this time, echoing, tearful even, and he shot out of there faster than before. As he lay there, gasping, he could only imagine what Pitch had to hide. That defense was magnificent though.

"Well played," he whispered. "Well played."

He spent the next hour grappling with the nonsense fear as he tried again and again to push into the tunnel. He knew no harm would come to him, but the shadows were relentless, adding or taking away voices, using voices from the present and his past as well. He hated hearing his sister's voice riddled with fear again, and coupled with Jamie's frenzied screams, he could only run away each time unwillingly and cling to the floor.

When he heard Pitch and Isobel coming out, he abandoned his attempts, mentally and emotionally exhausted. They didn't see him coming out of that darkened section of the lair, but when he stepped into the light, they noticed him. He waved shyly at Isobel, who curtsied with a giggle and went on her way, leaving Pitch to roll his eyes at the young frost spirit.

Jack followed him to the sitting room, panting and tired. Pitch gave him a onceover. "What in the world were you doing?"

Jack collapsed in an armchair. "Just messing around."

"With my shadows?"

"Maaaaybe," he said childishly, shutting his eyes. That last charge had really taken the wind out of him. He heard Pitch gather up dishes and take them to the kitchen. The silence was heavenly. He felt the fright ebbing away.

"_Jack!_"

Jack jerked violently and sat up, looking around. "What? What?"

Pitch marched in and thrust something forward.

The staff.

"You left this unattended?"

Jack reached a hand and winced as his personal effect was slapped into it. "What's the big deal?"

"You went wandering without having this with you," Pitch snapped. "Why?"

"I forgot," Jack said simply, because he really had.

Pitch clearly did not believe him. "I recall that I once caused you great pain by snapping that twig in half. You don't strike me as the type of person to forget his only source of power."

"I still don't see what the problem is."

"You shouldn't wander around here without that. How could you be so _stupid_?"

"I knew I was safe," Jack snapped. "You're the one controlling the darkness around here. I knew whatever you have sitting in those tunnels wouldn't bug me."

Pitch looked even more irritated than before. "You went into the tunnels?"

"You said to amuse myself. I went exploring."

"In the tunnels."

"Uh, yeah."

"Without your staff?"

Jack shrugged. "I'll never get your point if you don't make it."

Pitch went to him swiftly and knelt down in front of him, grabbing his wrists. "Never think that I am in full control of the darkness."

Jack winced as those hands tightened painfully around his thin joints. "Okay, okay."

"And stay out of the tunnels."

"Fine."

"And never forget your staff again."

Jack softened at the anxious look in Pitch's eye. _Huh. He kinda does care._ "I mean it when I say I don't know how I forgot it. Guess I felt comfortable. Safe."

Pitch sneered. "Liar."

"Wha—I'm not! Look, do that little sniff thing you do. Get a good taste of my emotions or whatever, then tell me I'm lying."

Pitch looked uncertain, but then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Jack's slightly exposed collarbone. Jack could feel his breath as he breathed in and out, softly.

"There is a trace of fear here," Pitch said a minute later, sounding like he was coming out of a daze. "You did not think yourself as safe as you said."

Jack could only guess that Pitch's accuracy at pinpointing the reasoning behind emotions lessened as the emotions faded. He was glad that the superficial fear of the false voices had disappeared so quickly. He didn't want the man to know he had been snooping in a place that was clearly supposed to be private. "No, I knew I was safe. I just saw a couple Fearlings and they startled me was all. I didn't think they'd hurt me, but that doesn't make them any less freaky."

Pitch let go of his wrists and threaded his fingers through Jack's, quiet. Jack pushed ice onto Pitch's hands reassuringly until the shade added, "You are also tired."

_Yeah, from having the bejeezus scared out of me every other minute._ "I was running around without my staff. What do you expect?"

"Hn…rest here for the night."

Jack's breath caught. "Could you repeat that?"

Pitch glared almost playfully up at him. "Spend the rest of the day here. It's clearly too hot out for you." He traced one torturous finger down Jack's chest to the top of his belt buckle. "Perhaps we might finish what we started."

"What you started," Jack grumbled, looking at that finger hopefully. "Is this the 'move in with me' phase of the relationship?"

Pitch's face fell, the hand dropped, and he said flatly, "This is not anything of that sort."

Jack laughed. "It was a joke. Since you're not willing to call this anything—"

"Indulgence."

"—I'm allowed to make jokes. Sadly, I can't stay. Promised I'd meet up with Jamie when he got back from the pool."

"You are too fond of that human."

"I'm fond of friends." With his magic flowing strongly through him, he floated out of Pitch's reach and out the door. "But it's nice to know your home is always open to me!"

"I never said that," Pitch retorted meanly from the room.

Jack ignored the protest and prepared himself for a world of summer sun.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Think I'm a tease? I kinda am. Anywho, my head's getting all muddled with plot stuffs. Thank you for sticking along with me. I did laugh when I saw the spike of reviews in my inbox. You guys are sweet, and I mean that with all seriousness. Hope I can keep up with this "chapter-a-day" thing. I'll probably get carpal tunnel by the time this thing's over. Ha.


	9. Stave Off These Thoughts

**Stave Off These Thoughts**

Jack entered the lair just in time to see Pitch crossing a bridge. "Well, good morning to you, sunshine!"

Pitch tossed him a displeased look. "What are you doing here?"

"You said your home was always open to me."

"Never."

"Whatever. That's what it sounded like yesterday."

"Then I shall buy you a dictionary on the next special occasion that crops up."

Jack followed him to an archway with bars across it. A soft yellow glow was spilling from it, similar to the rest of the gateways which shed a bit of light on the cavern. "What's this? A portal?"

"Yes," Pitch replied absentmindedly, waving a hand and watching the bars slide away with a soft grating sound. Jack's eyes followed the slight movement. He didn't know why, but he felt more anxious today than before.

It wasn't like he hadn't done relationships before. He had hung out with some creatures, nymphs, fairies, whether they were male or female. Some he bugged. Others, he…became involved with. But those didn't usually last very long. He couldn't stay in one place. Like the wind, he always left, moved on, and while he was grateful that those creatures had understood his flighty nature – he was _Jack Frost_, honestly – he had still felt very dissatisfied by the fact that he himself couldn't find the motivation within himself to stick around.

Of course, this thing he had with Pitch, well, it definitely wasn't a relationship. Even he could acknowledge that. And maybe Pitch was right. Maybe it was just lust. Indulgence. _Whatever_. However, something had been clawing its way into Jack's heart from that first sensual touch, and it had only just become more urgent now.

Jack wet his lips, realizing that while Pitch had been staring at the portal, he was clearly waiting for another comment. "Where does it lead?"

"The Pole."

His white eyebrows went up in surprise. "You need a portal for that? Can't you just, I dunno, teleport or something with your shadows?"

A funny smirk had curled over Pitch's mouth. "In this case, no. North has strengthened the wards about his Workshop to the point where my shadows cannot connect there. This is the only point of direct access."

Jack stepped closer to the soft light and reached out a hand to brush it. "Really?"

"Well," Pitch admitted with a dark chuckle, "no. I'm sure there are a few places he has forgotten I can reach. But I will abide by his silly rule if that means getting out of this mess sooner."

Jack hung back as Pitch moved forward to immerse himself halfway in the sweet glow. He turned and looked back at Jack, waiting for something.

"Does it…hurt?" Jack asked. At Pitch's dry look, he scrambled to add, "Because you're like the king of darkness and all, you know? Evil and stuff. How does it not hurt?"

Something in Pitch's expression tightened, and Jack surmised that perhaps this was one of those questions that could only be answered by revealing the past. If none of the Guardians had been willing to tell him though, he highly doubted that Pitch would.

Pitch extended one hand and said softly, "Come."

Jack took the hand and came to where Pitch was standing, going so far as to thread their fingers together. Pitch allowed it, though he didn't put pressure on Jack's hand as he usually did. He just walked forward, forcing Jack to follow in order to stay in contact.

The light was soothing and got a bit brighter, not to the point of blinding. All the same, Jack closed his eyes and felt the gentle pressure from behind his eyelids until it faded and the familiar rumble and bustle of the Workshop stroked his ears. The smell of very potent hot chocolate hit his nose immediately, and a duller peppermint melody floated beneath it. He opened his eyes and saw that they were standing in a dim hallway just on the other side of an open door. There were other shut doors lining the hallway, and at the end of it, he saw bright light.

Pitch let go of his hand immediately and strode purposefully to the end before disappearing around the corner. Jack tripped after him and found himself looking down at the heart of the Workshop. Pitch had already reached the stairs and was making his way for the Globe Room. Jack flew after him.

The usual spirits were already seated at the round table: the Guardians, Admon, and Fuinor. The personal guards which usually accompanied the latter two were present and standing, and there was a new spirit sitting at the far end of the table that caused Jack to stare openly.

His skin was almost white, and his hair was long like Fuinor's, although, unlike Fuinor, he kept his hair unbound. It draped over his shoulders with a glossy sheen, nearly blending into his armor which was also white, but tainted with frosty blue patterns around the edges. Jack could see the icy hilts of dual swords strapped to either side of his hips. There were faint grey circles under his eyes, rimmed black, and when he turned, Jack couldn't contain his gasp.

The creature's irises were a violent sky blue, so close to Jack's own color that he felt as though he were looking in a mirror. The stranger noticed him at last and a bit of surprise stirred in his gaze.

He was a frost spirit, Jack realized. A _real_ frost spirit. He could have stood and looked at that creature, that beautiful, _real_ creature for the rest of his life, but North's voice dragged him back to pressing reality. "Jack! Good of you to come…but why did you arrive with Pitch?"

Jack swallowed and shook his head, more to clear his thoughts of the frost spirit. "I, uh, his way seemed faster at the time. Don't worry. I'm not really sticking around."

"These are troubling times," the frost spirit at the far end of the table said, and damn it all if his voice wasn't as light as the air Jack rode. There was a slight Russian accent behind it, similar to North's, but not as heavy. He stood and gestured to the open seat beside him. "Perhaps you should stay…forgive me, I don't know your name."

"J-Jack," Jack stammered, flying over so he didn't have to risk having his voice crack embarrassingly if he rose it to be heard. "Jack Frost."

The frost spirit held out a large hand, which Jack shook reverently. "I am Pyotr. I—"

"Enough with the pleasantries," Fuinor cut in impatiently. "We have business to attend to."

The hand rose up to rest on Jack's shoulder. "Watch your mouth, Fuinor. I am here on the courtesy of my king, who has no need to meddle with your affairs. I can leave whenever I wish."

"But you waste our time by flirting." Heads swiveled to Pitch, whose face was a mask of stone. Jack was the only one who saw the displeasure beneath his gaze. He was also the only one to realize that Pitch's eyes were locked on where Pyotr's hand was still in contact with his shoulder.

_Is he…? No way! But maybe…this is too good._

Pyotr didn't seem bothered by the rude jibe Pitch had directed at him. "We have heard much about Jack Frost, though none of us have ever had the pleasure of meeting him."

"We?" Jack asked, but Pitch interrupted his questions with a disgusted hiss.

"There will be time later for that. If you intend to disrupt this meeting though, you may leave. No one called for a lapdog of the General." Fuinor looked like he completely agreed, and Tooth protested Pitch's rude statement shrilly.

Jack looked up and saw Pyotr's eyes widen, but he didn't seem interested in Pitch's flippant words. Instead, the faintest of smiles crossed his face and he slid his hand down Jack's arm until he removed it. "Very well. We may proceed."

"Jack. Get out."

Jack scowled at Pitch's order. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, you are excused," Pitch agreed, still not turning his glare from Pyotr. His entire stature was tense and screamed of some warning. Jack seriously wanted to call it like he saw it, but he figured that would only throw Pitch into a rage and disrupt the whole meeting. As flattering as Jack's theory was to him, he needed to let that stubborn-headed jerkwad that he couldn't be ordered around so easily.

"You don't tell me what to do."

Finally, that disapproving gaze struck him. "You never can sit still during these meetings, and you tend to be absent anyway. If you insist on staying, your presence would be distracting to Pyotr here, and eventually, to us. So leave." When Jack set his teeth stubbornly, Pitch said in a dangerous tone, "_Jack._"

Jack shivered. There was something urgent in it. The others had already started discussing quietly amongst themselves, having decided not to wait for the pissing contest to end. Pyotr said reassuringly, "You may go, Jack Frost. I see you have questions, and I will be here afterwards to answer them."

"He makes no promises," Pitch said snidely.

Jack ignored him and nodded shyly at Pyotr. "It was nice meeting you."

When he was finally outside, away from the warmth and sweet smell of the Workshop, he performed a couple of loop-the-loops in the snowy air out of sheer excitement. This was too much to process. He had _never_ encountered a frost spirit. Never! Not even a snow fairy, and even he had found that strange in his entire existence. How could he have been the only creature of snow and ice in the world? Impossible!

"And now," he whispered to himself as he banked in the wind, circling North's territory. "And _now!_"

But where had Pyotr come from? Who was the General? Why had Pyotr only shown up now? Obviously because trouble was afoot, Jack answered for himself. But Pyotr said that his presence was only a courtesy, implying that he hadn't encountered trouble in the land he was from. That line of questions had to be put on hold.

Now there was the matter of Pitch, Jack thought as he descended on the stables. There was a small village here where the elves and yeti made themselves at home under North's protection. _Pitch_, Jack repeated silently to himself. What had gotten him all riled up?

_Jealousy!_

That was what Jack hadn't been willing to say aloud, let alone finish thinking in Pitch's presence. He didn't know how far the Nightmare King's senses extended, how much he could pick up from others at certain distances.

Okay, so Pitch Black had been jealous. But...geez. _Jealous?_

A giddy smile jumped onto Jack's face as he swung his legs over the edge of the thatched roof and watched the reindeer prance about in the tamped down hay. Pitch was jealous for him. This was too good. Forget everything. Hell, forget the frost spirit. Well, maybe not entirely, but he was on the backburner. But still, Pitch Black was…

The smile slowly faded and he fixed his serious gaze on his pale toes, stilling. This was probably getting out of control. No one had realized anything yet, thankfully, but personally, Jack knew this would eat away at him. He'd keep craving. He'd keep visiting. He'd keep indulging. He wouldn't stop.

"Crap." He buried his head in his hands and tugged his hair. Of all the spirits in the world to be attracted to, it had to be the most dangerous, violent, dishonest, cruel, spiteful son of a bitch to ever live.

Warbled shouting from the yetis drew his attention. The great creatures were shooing along a small herd of Nightmares, separating them from the reindeers they had been nosing at. Jack watched, amused. Since when did Pitch's creations flock to North's stronghold? The lead horse tossed her head and noticed Jack watching. With a sharp neigh, she flew up, followed by her sisters, and they trotted across the roof to stand by Jack, shuffling their hooves in an almost awkward manner. The lead dipped her head, and Jack looked over her patterns. "Onyx, right?"

She nickered, pleased, and nuzzled his cold hand. He jumped a bit, feeling fear curl in the back of his throat, but then told himself it wasn't real until the feeling disappeared entirely. Onyx wasn't the thing to be afraid of. She was just harboring the fear she had taken from others. The rest of the Nightmares crowded closer, thrusting their noses at him to be petted. He laughed and scratched each of them in turn.

"You all came here to see your master, huh?" He knew they understood him by how they tossed their heads and pawed the roof. "The big bad yetis wouldn't let you in, right? And you just wanted to play with the reindeer so you weren't bored."

Onyx whinnied and pranced in place, nudging him until he was on his feet. "What? Just go play with the reindeer."

The other horses neighed and seemed to glare at the yetis who were watching them warily from below. Jack rolled his eyes and waved a hand. "Hey, Wes! How about you and the guys take a break, okay? I'll watch them."

Wes grumbled and protested in the language Jack had never really bothered to learn, but after the yetis all consulted with one another, Wes jabbed one furry finger at Jack warningly and led his crew into a neighboring house. Jack jerked his head and led the Nightmares down to where the giant reindeers were strutting restlessly. Jack couldn't remember their names for the life of him, not even what the children called them in their stories. He was pretty sure North called them by some big complicated names in Russian, but he wasn't even going to bother finding out.

"Hey, there," he cooed softly to the closest one, raising a calming hand. The beast snorted and shook his great head restlessly, then nudged Jack experimentally. "Yup, you know me, big guy." He scratched along the thick neck and pointed to the Nightmares. "Want to play?"

* * *

Jack's holler of exhilaration echoed off the face of the mountain. "C'mon, you can do better than that! _Wooo-hooo!_"

Behind him trailed a small mix of Nightmares and reindeer, legs working and pushing with the air currents as they happily struggled to keep up with their leader. Jack has lost track of time, but it was all good. He was hardly tired, and he was sure the meeting was still going on. A glance behind him told him that the animals were enjoying themselves. This was a good way to clear his head. He couldn't even remember what he had been thinking about beforehand.

"What do you think, guys?" he called.

The bellowing of the reindeer and the whinnies of the Nightmares were music to his ears. He started when a lithe dark shape raced under him and rose up, but it was only Onyx. He laughed when her warm back came in contact with him, and he settled, relaxing his magic and allowing her to carry him the rest of the way back to the Workshop. As they neared the stables, Jack winced at who was waiting for him. "Uh-oh."

Both legends cut tall and imposing figures against the white snow. Jack waved sheepishly as he and the beasts touched down. North raised an amused eyebrow; Pitch looked less than thrilled. Jack hopped off Onyx's back and patted her before approaching them. "Is the meeting over?"

"No," North said, watching his animals frolic around the stable grounds with the creations of darkness. "But I received call from yeti saying reindeer had disappeared."

Jack laughed happily, watching Onyx nip playfully at the tail of one of the reindeer. "Thought I'd take them out for a spin."

"Why are my Nightmares involved?" Pitch asked solemnly, clearly not as pleased by the socializing beasts as North.

"They were here when I left the meeting. I think they were lonely, and they wanted to play. One thing led to another, and then we were all flying around."

"Take them home."

Jack stilled. "What?"

"Lead my Nightmares home," Pitch repeated, already striding back for the Workshop. North gave a helpless look and followed. Jack ran to catch up.

"Whoa, wait! We were just having a little fun. They came here looking for you anyway."

"And now I'm telling you to take them away."

"Can't they just stick around and play until you guys are finished?"

Pitch rounded on him, drawing himself up. "_No_."

"Pitch," North said gently, "the boy is bored. Your Nightmares are bored. Let them work out their energy."

"If they want to play, they can do it in the way they were made for," Pitch snapped. "Once this whole ordeal is over, I don't want to deal with mopey dream sand that got too attached to your ridiculous sleigh pullers."

His tone made sure that that was the end of the conversation, and he stalked back inside. North patted Jack's back. "Don't worry. You can have fun another day."

Jack couldn't find the heart to return his smile, and he trudged back to the herd, stroking Onyx's flank. "C'mon, girls. Time to get you home." He finally managed a laugh when their whinnies sounded like protests. "I know, I know. Your daddy's being mean. Doesn't trust his girls to be out playing with these big bad studs here."

The reindeer stamped their feet indignantly.

Jack swung up onto Onyx's back and led the Nightmares away through the air. "Sorry. Next time we'll schedule an official play date."

* * *

Jack ran his fingers over Onyx's mane one final time before turning his head upward with the intention of leaving the lair. A thought struck him and he immediately flew in a different direction, landing in the darkest part where the tunnel of whispering Fearlings lay. As soon as he took a few steps in, he immediately backed out due to the surge of whispers that flooded his ears.

"Damn it," he muttered, swinging his staff angrily and icing the floor. A soft nose nudged his back, and he patted Onyx's great head. "Just can't seem to get past them."

Onyx looked at the dark tunnel with burning eyes, then strode forward. Jack watched, amazed, as the shadows seemed to clear a path for her. He could actually see the floor where she walked. "Hey, wait!"

He caught hold of her tail and moved his hand up her flank until he was at her neck. They moved slowly forward, the shadows melting away to form a path for them until they reached the end of the tunnel. Jack blinked and stared at the large door in the wall. "Now isn't that interesting." He slowly reached out a hand and tugged at the ringed doorknob. The door opened with a creak and a groan, clearly having not been used for a while.

It was dark inside, but there was enough light for Jack to see stone steps. He took a deep breath and let go of Onyx.

The whispers started immediately, but he was already inside and had shut the door behind him.

A cool breeze ruffled his clothes, and he turned to face the steps. He took them two at a time, reveling in the way the smooth cobblestone felt beneath his feet. He was so focused on his feet that he missed what loomed above him, thus smacking his head into the flat surface.

"_Agh!_"

He recoiled, clutching his injured skull and blinking away smarting tears. He looked up and saw that there was what looked to be a wooden ceiling. When he felt it with his hands, he came across a metal catch, and pulled. The panels slid; a trap door. He inched up and saw that he was under a bed.

"What the…?"

He crawled out from under the bed and looked around; a bedroom. He glanced back at the bed and chuckled to himself. Fitting for the Boogeyman, he supposed.

The room clearly hadn't been used for a long number of years. The dust was thick on every surface; the bed, the dresser, the mirror, the floor. Jack found himself brushing dust bunnies from his hoodie, kicking them back under the bed they had come from. There were tattered curtains covering a large window, but he didn't bother to look outside. He instead turned to the door, which was half-open, and poked his head out.

There was a long strip of floor which opened to a large staircase. Jack flew down instead of walking. Best he didn't leave too much evidence that he was here. The foyer was a mess. Jack hovered in the air and turned in a slow circle. The staircase railing was smashed. The stairs were missing wood, and holes had been punched through some. The walls had hideous gashes on them, and every painting that once resided on them now lay on the floor. The marble tiles of the foyer were cracked, several crushed beyond repair. Everything was dirty and dusty and forgotten.

Jack looked up and grimaced. A chandelier was hanging haphazardly by its last two remaining chains. Cobwebs were slung from almost every crystal. Jack carefully floated out of the lighting fixture's drop zone when he saw a large spider crawl slowly to a new location on its web.

He floated through a few rooms: kitchen, dining room, den. Each was in a destitute state, desperate for a fix up and crying for occupation. In the den, he found French doors, and he carefully jiggled one of the handles and pulled. He gasped when it swung open precariously on hinges which threatened to drop off. After making sure it wasn't going anywhere, he stepped outside and breathed.

The smell of summer air was faint, but there. He moved out from the overhang of the upper porch and looked around. Dark coniferous trees surrounded the two-story house, which was beginning to look more and more like a log cabin due to the cut of the exterior wood and the stone base. The air he was smelling was mountain air. He just knew it.

He took a few steps forward and jumped as his foot landed on something sharp. After a moment of hopping around in the air – this place was a deathtrap – he stooped and scanned the ground. He saw something glint in the sunlight that was blinking through white clouds, and his nimble fingers made quick work of the hardened earth.

It was a golden arrowhead.

Jack pocketed it and flew up high above the house for a bird's eye view. He certainly wasn't in Burgess anymore.

There was the house; around it, a thick forest, and a trail leading from the front down through the forest. This _was_ a mountain, though the house was based low on it. He could see, in the far distance, a city, though he still couldn't decipher where he was. He looked back down at the house. He understood that Pitch had many portals in his home, but that still begged the question: why had that particular tunnel and door been guarded? And why did the portal lead _here_? A broken down, dusty home that had clearly been forgotten ages ago?

Jack immediately felt guilty. He shouldn't be here. This place was private. It was heavy with the air of a past that he wasn't supposed to know, and he had just waltzed right in without a second thought. He gripped his staff and quickly rode the wind away without giving the empty house another glance.

On his way through the clouds, he brought himself down to low altitude to see where he was. To his surprise, he was coming out of north-west England. He restrained himself from specifically identifying what city that had been just beyond the base of the mountain. Even so, he knew he had been there before; he had sent snow down to those areas, had flown through the very streets of those cities.

He knew this place. He just chose not to figure it out.

* * *

The Workshop came in sight, though it was still miles away. Jack set down on the ice and decided to walk for a little while in an attempt to shake off the emotions that were roiling in his chest. God forbid if Pitch discovered where he had been through a simple thread of curiosity.

Pitch. _Crap._

Now he needed this walk for a different reason: to clear his head of thoughts of the Nightmare King. And not the bad thoughts. The good thoughts. Sinfully good thoughts.

He shook his silver head. No, no, he had been through this already earlier. Right now he needed to forget. Just forget.

_Forget…_

A heavy flapping sound struck his ears.

Blue eyes shot open and he looked around on high alert. Behind, he spotted dark shapes gliding with practiced ease through the air.

His blood ran colder than usual.

_Fucking tengu!_

He only took two steps to start his takeoff before the ice burst up beneath his feet and something tossed the chunks away with an earsplitting roar. Jack kicked up in the air right then, but a large, white-furred hand clamped down on his ankle with monstrous strength and _pulled._

His scream echoed throughout the frozen tundra, most likely unheard.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Don't worry. You'll get something fun in the next chapter. Almost wasn't able to post today due to technical difficulties. I'm due for a new laptop in a few weeks anyway, and I get to choose between a Mac and a PC. Leaning towards the latter. Your thoughts?


	10. The Body Rebuilds, the Heart Breaks

**The Body Rebuilds, the Heart Breaks**

Jack was quite sure his leg was shattered when his body was slapped against the unbroken ice as though he were a mere ragdoll. The beast, whatever it was, let go of him, and through pain-clouded eyes, he glimpsed the already bruising skin of his right leg. The flesh was changing from bright angry red to dark blue, then violet, and it was verging on black very quickly. Panic welled up in his throat as he realized he couldn't feel his foot.

Jack didn't wait around to let the creature viciously swing him around again. With a pained cough, he shot up into the air, out of the reach of the ape-like beast which immediately pawed at the space he had been in and roared. Jack pushed himself to go faster, seeing that the tengu were almost upon him. When he saw he wasn't going to make it to the Workshop in time, he whirled and blasted the sky with ice lightning. He saw a few tengu dodge the frosty magic, but a good number of them were struck and started freefalling. They were still coming though, and Jack glanced back and something in his heart iced over.

He was tired of not being considered as one of the big contenders. Who was Fuinor to say that he was a child who couldn't contribute? Who were these stupid birds and that idiot alchemist to determine that he wasn't worth their time to tail?

With the constant throbbing in his leg to remind him that he couldn't fight for very long, Jack stopped in the air and braced his staff.

The first tengu reached him, talons outstretched, and Jack spun, slamming the crook of his staff into its face. The solid blow took the birdman by surprise, because it fell heavily and wasn't able to recover before it crashed into the ice. Jack shot ice at the next one that got too close. His aim was true and the tengu dropped like a rock with useless wings. He set his eyes on the next target, but his blood curdled when he saw what glinted on its hands.

The metal extensions, exactly like the one Fuinor had shown him, were secured to its talons, and its mouth – Jack just couldn't bring himself to identify it as a "he", because that _thing_ was a monster – was twisted in a cruel grin.

Jack froze the next one, clipped the wings of another, but was overwhelmed as the bulk of them caught up to him. Before they could swarm him, he dove down and raced over the surface of the ice.

Bad idea.

Immediately, he was being pursued by loping ape creatures like the one who had grabbed him before. He could hear them breathing heavily as they chased him, could hear them snorting roughly at each other, could feel hot breath on his toes—

"Shit!"

He put on an extra burst of speed just as a mouth of dull teeth snapped down on the air his feet had just been. The creatures roared, and oh, _god_, he had to go faster because the tengu were right on top of him, but the compound was right _there_—

A heavy weight dropped down on him and he knew he was finished. He went face first into the ice, and if _that_ didn't hurt like hell, then he knew what was coming would be much worse. His staff was yanked from his hand and he screamed into the ground as cold metal tore through the back of his new hoodie and dipped effortlessly into his frozen flesh. More of the tengu were landing, grabbing him, and in a last desperate attempt, he pushed as much power as he dared out through his skin. Anything touching him shrieked as they were assaulted by aggressive ice that crawled over their hands. That only served to infuriate them, and the ripping resumed, more vicious than before if that was possible.

It wasn't that Jack was tired. He knew he still had fight left in him. But he was dazed and disoriented, and he just couldn't get his bearings straight enough to push off the ground, not that he could if he even wanted to because strong hands were pinning him as talons tore at him. It was like being picked apart by vultures.

Hopefully, he prayed, one of the yetis who kept a lookout at the top of the Workshop would see what was happening and would sound the alarm.

No horn sounded though.

It was only seconds that he had been lying there under the onslaught, but at some point he stopped feeling the pain. After another second, he stopped feeling everything, and he didn't realize that was because the tengu were being dragged off of him until he heard birdlike shrieks surrounding him and gruff orders being given in the elfin language in the distance.

Hope sparked in him like a match, and he won the struggle to lift his head and saw his staff lying on the ground a few feet away. He started crawling toward it and saw dark elves doing battle with the tengu out of the corner of his eye. He paused once to cough and could only stare at the blood that flew from his mouth and splattered the snow. He was seriously messed up.

_This is gonna take a lot of R and R,_ he thought as he resumed his pathetic stomach trek across the ground. His fingers were literally centimeters from the wood when he felt a hand clamp down around his injured ankle and drag him back.

Apparently he did still feel something, because the howl that tore from his lips was one of pain, not of surprise. He kept his eyes locked on the staff as he clawed for it, but beyond it, he saw something else that captivated his attention.

Pitch was there, his dream sand scythe sticking halfway in the bloodied chest of a felled ape beast, but he was frozen and he was staring at _Jack_.

The hand on his leg squeezed and Jack screamed again and something in Pitch's battle hardened expression snapped, and suddenly his eyes were blown wide and _alive_, and he didn't even try to remove his scythe from the ape to help Jack. He raised a hand, and his face was more vicious than when he had fought Jack and the Guardians – it seemed like ages ago – and Jack heard a squelching sound just by his feet that made his stomach churn violently.

He slowly bent his head as much as he dared and glanced behind him, before immediately letting out a wordless cry. Dark spikes protruded from a now dead tengu's chest, dripping with dark crimson, but the hand around his ankle was firm, rigor mortis already setting in. Jack blinked through blood and tears and brought his head back around to find himself face to face with black boots, then a robe, then ashy hands that loomed in his vision, but didn't touch him.

"Jack? _Jack_, you need to tell me if you're alright."

Jack worked his mouth, but his throat felt like the proverbial frog had clawed away at the inner tissue to prevent him from speaking. All that came out was a dribble of blood. He couldn't crane his neck to see what Pitch's expression was like, so he tried to push himself up, but his arms collapsed beneath him and the stiff hand refused to let him go. He whined pathetically and tried to shake it off, the sounds of battle ringing in his ears.

Pitch rose up and disappeared from his vision, and Jack's breath quickened to the point of hyperventilation.

_No, don't go! Don't leave me—don't let me—_

"Shhh. I'm right here." Warm hands slid calmly over his calf, down to the talons which wouldn't let go, and pried them away. The pain didn't lessen, but the mentality of peace hit Jack like a wave. "I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Jack tried, he really did, but when Pitch stopped touching him, his breath just sped up, unable to bear the loss.

"No, I'm not gone," Pitch said by his ear. He carefully slipped his arms around Jack and started to lift him up, and that was when Jack actually stopped breathing altogether because every frosty nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. He squirmed desperately, only succeeding in worsening the sensations, but Pitch tightened his grip and growled, "Enough, Jack, I'm trying to help you. Calm down."

Jack saw a trio of tengu approaching from the side and finally, _finally_ managed to croak, "_Pitch…_"

"I see them," Pitch replied disinterestedly. A hand blocked Jack's field of vision and he heard dying squawks a moment later. He was suddenly flipped over, still in darkness, mouth twisted open in a silent cry from the pain, but he tried his best to relax. He faintly heard North shouting at Pitch to take him away, but he knew he could still fight.

"Not…tired."

The hand stayed over his eyes. "I know," Pitch agreed gravely, "but your body will not allow you to go any further." He pulled his hand back and Jack found himself staring up in relief at twin solar eclipses, brighter than ever. Why did Pitch look to be in pain? Was he hurt? Pitch laughed harshly as though he had heard Jack's concerned thoughts.

"You're nothing but a bloody lump of flesh and you worry for me, Jack?"

God, he loved the sound of his name on Pitch's lips. And shit, he was pretty sure he was delirious if he was thinking like that in the middle of a battle.

"Clench your teeth," Pitch ordered softly. Jack did just as Pitch rose up with him in his arms. A scream leaked out from between Jack's pearly whites as the fire took hold of him in his spine again. Pitch didn't stop moving until he had deposited him on a furry back. "Good boy. Now I need you to hold on. Hold on, yes?"

Jack twisted his fingers through the long fur of the reindeer and gripped it as tight as he could, panting as the pain simmered down to a consistent burn. He saw his staff lying on the ground and reached for it. Pitch immediately picked it up and wedged it beneath Jack's body, forcing his hand back onto the fur.

"Good."

There was a resounding smack, and the flighty creature reared up with a snort and kicked into the air, gaining altitude with every stroke of its legs. Jack could feel the thick muscles working beneath him, and he winced with each movement as it translated to him, but if it was saving his life, he could stand it. He shifted his head to glance down. Pitch dove back into the fray of tengu and ape-beasts. Fuinor's battle cries were distinct, and his soldiers shifted formations before continuing to purge the ice of the enemy. Admon and his woodland spirits were in the distance, doing the best they could, and the Guardians were cutting progressive swaths through the enemy's ranks as well.

Jack's eyes snapped back to Pitch, who was making use of both scythe and shadows to drop his foes into pools of their own blood. He looked up only once to make sure Jack was on his way back to the compound, and they locked eyes. Pitch's face had steeled over, and it didn't change as he and Jack stared. Jack wanted Pitch to step into the air and come with him, but the Nightmare King's posture was rigid as he turned away to continue on his warpath.

_Please, look at me,_ Jack pleaded silently, desperate to reach out but too frightened that he would fall and wouldn't have the strength to keep himself up in the air, staff or not.

Even as he passed out, Pitch still wouldn't look at him.

* * *

His senses weren't working right.

They couldn't be, because he thought he smelled hot chocolate and peppermint mixed with antiseptic and blood, which was really quite disgusting. And he felt soft sheets and bandages beneath his bare stomach, but there was fire above him, licking his back and piercing him down to his spine. And his mouth tasted of mint and spice, but when he ran a too heavy tongue over his teeth, he tasted cotton and iron. And he heard the dim sounds of the Workshop beyond the thick wooden walls, but what pierced through that noise was a high-pitched, stressed voice shrilly ordering Pitch Black, Nightmare King, to get his scrawny hide in that room and check on him.

Jack laughed into his pillow, but immediately had to stop as he felt his ribs creak in protest of his vocal mirth. He had gotten banged up good, hadn't he?

_Wait, wait, focus. Tooth just told Pitch to…but what is Pitch doing and why doesn't he want to see me?_ His chest stung, and it wasn't because of his injuries. _Did I do something wrong? Is he hurt? Is he okay? Is he—_

The arguing escalated outside until the door flew open with a bang, making him jump.

"_Don't_ you slam that door," Tooth was hissing. "You'll wake him up!"

"I wouldn't have to risk waking him up if I didn't even have to enter the bloody room," Pitch snapped back. "You wanted me to check him, so leave us alone."

Jack heard the door close, then his mind wrapped around a single word Pitch had said: _us._ He could live off that single word for the rest of eternity, and wow, he was seriously mooning over this man, wasn't he?

There was silence, then the shuffle of clothes as Pitch took a turn about the room, probably observing it. After a few minutes, Jack heard him say, "I know you're awake."

"'S not like I was pretending to be asleep," Jack replied.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a butchered piece of meat."

"You looked like one." Pitch's tone was completely flat. He wasn't joking.

Jack didn't know why he felt guilty. Maybe it was because he heard the underlying anger in Pitch's voice. Yeah, that had to be it. "Are you…mad at me?"

A laugh. "Now what would bring you to that conclusion?"

"Your sarcasm isn't really helping," Jack snapped, drawing his arms under him and pushing himself up. Flames shot up his back and he immediately collapsed with a whine. "Why am I not healed yet?"

The bed dipped as Pitch sat down and pressed lightly on Jack's shoulders, stilling him. "The tengus' extensions were dipped in poison. Don't worry, it's not potent enough to scar you, but it will postpone your healing for a while. Even I was affected."

"You?" Jack's heart quickened and he tried to sit up again. Pitch stopped him. "No, I want to. Let me…help me up. Please?"

"You shouldn't sleep on your back."

"I'm not trying to sleep on my back," Jack replied in frustration. "I'm trying to sit up. Just help me sit up!"

He felt Pitch's hands hesitate before they slid around him and picked him up without much effort. His wounds ached, but he bore with it as he was lifted and turned until he could sit up. "Don't," Pitch ordered as he started to lean back. "The headboard will hurt."

"Can't I just put a pillow behind me?" Jack complained, not really eager to remain sitting up.

"It won't be enough," Pitch replied, as though he couldn't understand how Jack didn't realize it. Jack looked over his face for the first time since the attack. Pitch had one of those handsome faces that was easily on the border between youth and maturity in the human world. His thin lips were drawn in a neutral line and his eyes were bright, but tired. His light ashy skin was smooth, save is forehead, which was furrowed deeply.

Jack reached up and pressed his fingers there, silently urging those lines to relax. Pitch understood and his forehead smoothed out, lips turning up at the corners. He murmured for Jack to bear with him for a moment and scooped him up in his arms, crawling on the bed and arranging himself with Jack between his knees. All of the movement hurt, but once the sting died down, Jack leaned back into Pitch's chest. The pressure was uncomfortable on his wounds, but after a moment it settled into a dull burn that he easily pushed aside in his mind.

"Where were you hurt?" Jack murmured, drumming his fingers against his thighs.

"Left shoulder," Pitch replied above his head, tracing lazy circles on Jack's bare stomach just below the bandages. "Right thigh."

Jack pushed the black robe aside until he saw the white bandages wrapped securely around Pitch's pants. He ran his fingers lightly over them before letting a bit of cold seep through the cloth. Pitch shifted and he apologized. "Too much?"

"No. It's fine. It removes the heat." Pitch dropped his face into Jack's hair. "Now. Explain what happened yesterday."

"Yesterday? How long was I out?"

"Almost an entire day. Talk, Jack."

Jack shrugged, ignoring the discomfort that followed the movement. "I took your horses home…"

_And invaded your privacy._

Jack shoved the thoughts violently from his mind, hoping his curious emotions didn't come to rise. He had to get rid of the feeling, so he craned his neck around and pressed his lips to Pitch's at an awkward angle. Pitch stiffened a bit, but eventually returned the kiss cautiously.

They continued like that, their breaths mingling, and Jack realized that this was a _really_ good distracter, because he couldn't really remember what he was trying to push from his mind. Pitch's hand came up to thread through his silver hair, and the other gripped Jack's hip. Jack winced – the flesh there was still bruised – but drew his legs in and tried to twist to face Pitch properly. His right leg became stuck in the sheets, and he broke away to glare at the offending limb, only grow horribly confused when he saw the sterile white cast encasing him from his calf to his ankle.

"What…?"

"The bones were shattered," Pitch explained. "Toothiana managed to realign them, and they're healing quickly. The cast is just there to keep them in place and can probably come off at the end of the day. Nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't worrying. Will I be able to fly? Where's my staff?"

Pitch pointed across the room to the staff that leaned in the corner. Jack tensed his muscles to go get it, but Pitch restrained him immediately. "I put it over there for a reason."

Jack let his head flop against the darkly clothed shoulder. "I can't walk over there anyway."

"…Why didn't you just take the portal to the Workshop?"

_Because I ended up in England and I didn't think I should go back into that house._ Jack swallowed. "Because I wanted to fly. Since you interrupted my game with the animals."

"I don't want my Nightmares getting attached."

_Like how you're getting attached to me?_ He didn't dare say it out loud, lest Pitch remove himself from the room entirely. "I just wanted to clear my head in the skies."

"Why didn't you come get us when you saw the tengu?"

"I knew I couldn't make it. They're faster than me."

"No." Pitch's growl left no room for argument. "I know those creatures, and I know you. None of them could have caught you, had you really been trying. Were you distracted?"

Jack's mouth opened once, then closed as he tried to formulate a response. "Kinda…I saw them and I started flying, but one of those giant monkey things grabbed me and they gained on me. I thought I could hold some of them off. I expected one of the yetis to sound the alarm, but that didn't happen."

"They didn't have time," Pitch said gently, tracing foreign patterns on Jack's bare stomach again. "They saw you, said a few things, and were running. The meeting was only interrupted because everyone in the Workshop was abandoning their posts to come out and fight."

"Where did all the elves come from?"

"Fuinor moved some of his army here last week. Admon too."

Jack looked at the underside of Pitch's jaw and craned his neck, kissing it. "What's going to happen now?"

"We have prisoners," Pitch said. "Fuinor is interrogating them in the old mountain caves. Don't worry, everything is taken care of. Faust won't make a move like that again. Not anytime soon, at least."

"I'm not—" Jack started to protest, but a soft knock on the door made his words fall short.

Pitch jackknifed out of the bed without a word of apology to the rough jostling Jack suffered. The door opened and Tooth fluttered in carrying a platter of tea and soup. She saw Jack sitting up and her feathers flared happily.

"Jack! How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," he admitted as she set the platter down. He glared over her at Pitch whose look steeled over. The tall shade went to the window and stared out it, ignoring them.

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yeah. How is everyone?"

"A little battered, but we'll survive. We didn't become Guardians for nothing, you know."

Jack noticed two thin swords strapped to either side of her slender waist. "Whoa! Cool! Are those yours? How come I've never seen them before?"

"They've been in storage. After the battle, I decided it was time to pull some memories from the closet. I'm going to need them." She smiled and patted his cheek affectionately. "Drink some tea, have some soup, and get some rest."

"M'not really hungry," Jack started, but Tooth clicked her tongue and shook her bright head.

"No excuses, Jack Frost," Tooth replied in a motherly fashion. "That had better be all gone by the time I get back. Pitch, make sure he does as I ask." Pitch didn't turn as the door shut softly.

Jack stared at his broad back before lying down and rolling over. He didn't need to eat or drink. He needed to rest and sort out his head.

"You're not going to eat?"

He hardly even twitched when the velvety voice spoke in his ear. "You're always lecturing me on the benefits of being immortal. I'm not hungry or thirsty."

"At least take the tea."

"No." He just wasn't in the mood, not even for Pitch. Maybe it was the way Pitch had jumped away from him before Tooth had entered. Was he ashamed to be…that was a stupid question. Of course he was. And that just made Jack feel worse than ever.

"There's medicine in it," Pitch coaxed, pouring a cup. "It will speed up the healing process."

"I'm good."

Pitch sighed. "May I sit?"

Jack raised his head in surprise, then managed to push himself up so Pitch could slide in behind him and settle him between his legs. So much for resisting, but Jack didn't mind, especially when Pitch tilted his head to the side and kissed him. Jack tried to deepen the kiss, but Pitch pulled away so he huffed impatiently and looked out the window. Outside, the snow was swirling, and he wondered if that was his fault.

Slender fingers turned his head again, and he accepted Pitch's lips with an open mouth. He flinched in surprise when a hot liquid raced down his throat, the taste of peppermint strong. Pitch pulled back to look at him challengingly, lips shiny and wet. Jack rolled his eyes and licked a drop of amber liquid away from the ashy skin.

"Alright, I can take my medicine that way."

Pitch snorted in amusement and took another mouthful from the cup, pressing his lips to Jack's. Jack took the heat and swallowed it greedily. After the third drink, he plunged his tongue forward into Pitch's cavern and slicked it against Pitch's own tongue, tasting the lingering flavor. So it continued until the entire teapot was empty and Jack felt like he was melting from the inside out.

"Too…hot…" he panted, lax against Pitch's hard body.

"You took it without stopping," Pitch reminded him, splaying a hand against Jack's lower abdomen. Jack moaned softly as the fingers accidentally brushed a little lower than intended. Pitch laughed in his ear. "Need to cool off, Jack?"

"Y-yes," he hissed, ecstatic when those hands began to undo his belt, button, then zipper.

"You're lucky you didn't get injured around here," Pitch said, running his hands languidly down Jack's thighs. "Imagine if the others removed your pants? Found out your dirty little secret?"

"J-jealous?" Jack teased breathlessly.

"Lift your hips." There was something carnal about Pitch's tone, and it made Jack harder still. He complied and felt his pants slide over his bare buttocks, stopping mid-thigh so his erection bobbed freely, flushed and waiting.

"Oh, Jack," Pitch crooned silkily in his ear, hand inching towards the base. "Look at you. You must be so overheated."

Jack's eyes closed only for a second, and in that second he felt a dry warmth close over his shaft. "_Guh—!_ Pitch…"

"Yes?" Pitch said casually, thumbing the tip of Jack's leaking cock.

"Shi—I thought you-you said you'd help me…cool off?"

Pitch made an experimental stroke, ignoring the frost spirit's keening. "You will cool off after this."

His hand took up a slow, lazy rhythm that had Jack clawing at the bed sheets, head thrown back against Pitch's shoulder. Pitch kissed him hard, and his very core shook from the intensity behind it. Pitch bit and licked and sucked, and his hand didn't miss a beat; in fact, it picked up the pace, as did Jack's breathing.

"Oh, _God!_"

"That's not my name."

"B-bastard," Jack gasped.

"Close enough."

Jack grabbed Pitch's thigh, the injured one, causing Pitch to jump. Pitch snatched Jack's hand up with his free one and squeezed. Jack laughed into his neck. His body was sore all over, but with every muscle spasm, he got a wave of pleasure that drowned the undercurrent of pain. The heat was overwhelming, and his blood was roaring in his ears, but he could still hear his labored breaths echoing about the room. He wondered if anyone could hear them, wondered what would happen if someone came in, and a spike of excitement shot through him.

"I never realized you were so voyeuristic," Pitch commented before sinking his teeth into his neck. Jack bucked a few times, throwing off Pitch's rhythm, but the shade easily resumed it. He licked the tender skin he had tasted. "Though you realize I would have to stop if someone entered."

"_Ngh_…don't!"

Jack was close; he could feel it. The coil in his lower abdomen had just about reached its winding point, and he was close. His eyes were clenched shut, his head was pressed into Pitch's neck, and his right hand was caught in Pitch's. He was so close, and he tried to free his fingers, tried to lace them with Pitch's as he was so fond of doing, but the man wasn't having any of it. Whether he didn't realize that was what Jack was trying to do, or because he didn't want it to be any more intimate than it already was, Jack didn't know.

_It's already as fucking intimate as it's gonna get,_ Jack's wracked out brain told him harshly, but he was too preoccupied on still trying to get his hand free. He succeeded, but before he could do what he wanted, Pitch had grabbed his chin and kissed the side of his temple.

"Open your eyes, Jack," he whispered.

Jack pushed past the pleasurable waves to stare up at wide golden eyes. Pitch smirked and directed his head down. Jack followed his gaze and saw himself bare and exposed, saw his erection flushed, the head disappearing repeatedly beneath a grey hand.

_Pitch's_ hand.

The Nightmare King was touching him, looking at him uncovered, stroking him to climax, and damn it all if that wasn't the hottest thing Jack had ever seen in his three-hundred odd years. It was also the final push.

His muscles clenched almost painfully, and he came with a groan, spilling over Pitch's hand which never faltered, just kept pumping until at last, Jack melted against him, boneless, breathless, and sated.

"I…I think you ma-made it worse," he laughed quietly.

"What?" Pitch murmured absentmindedly, dropping a kiss onto his silver head.

"The heat. It's worse."

"Oops."

There was silence, and then they were both chuckling, and Jack noticed that Pitch's hand was still around his cock, unmoving, but covered in his glistening white semen. Jack felt his loins stir, because it was arousing even though he was tired, and as he shifted, he felt Pitch's own hard-on pressing into his lower back. He felt a little happy. He had caused that. He could do something about it.

Before he could do anything though, Pitch was letting him go, sliding out from behind him, and picked up a towel from the desk across the room, wiping himself clean. Then he crossed to the window and opened it, letting a cold draft sweep through the room. He turned back to the bed and Jack reached out a sweaty hand.

"Come back to bed?"

An innocent enough question, but Pitch didn't seem to think so. In fact, he looked horribly disturbed, and he said, "Clean yourself up before someone walks in." He tossed him the towel.

Everything hurt. Jack's mind was coming out of its post-orgasm haze, and everything wouldn't have hurt if Pitch hadn't just dismissed him so coldly. Jack wiped himself off, pulled up his pants, and lay down on his side, suddenly feeling very tired.

_What was I thinking?_ He scratched his stomach and suddenly sat up, ignoring the pain. "Where's my hoodie?" Pitch gave him an odd look, but pointed to the blue and bloody lump lying on the desk chair. Jack nodded and lay back down, mumbling, "Just…wondered if I can patch it up so North doesn't have to give me one."

"I'm sure that jolly fool won't mind forking over a new one," Pitch assured him dryly.

"Yeah," Jack said, curling into himself and closing his eyes. "Can you…go? I'm tired."

Pitch went to the door and left without a word. The guilt was gnawing at Jack, and he felt like he had betrayed Pitch. And he had, in his own mind, because Pitch had walked into whatever this was with the belief that it was just lust. Indulgence.

Jack had betrayed Pitch by turning this into something more than just indulgence. Hell, he had betrayed himself because, for some reason unknown to him, he had started to love Pitch Black.

* * *

Jack shoved a shaking hand into the singular front pocket of his new hoodie and clutched the golden arrowhead. It had only taken another day for his wounds to close up and the scars to fade. His bones were all in order and the cast had been removed. Whatever had been in that tea had really helped.

Jack shook his head to clear the blush from his face as he thought of tea. He was supposed to keep his mind off of anything related to Pitch.

_Then what the hell am I doing here?_ he asked himself again, staring down at the Boogeyman's hole.

Investigating. Right. Pitch didn't want to make this personal. Jack could…live with that. But he was still pissed as hell, and he had every right to take it out on Pitch by delving into his private life. That was how it worked, right? If someone did you wrong, you do wrong back?

As he jumped down the hole, he knew in his heart that that was the worst conclusion he could arrive at. Pitch had done nothing but be himself. And technically, it was okay. Jack wasn't _in_ love with him. He had only _started_ to love him. Meaning this situation was still salvageable.

_Later_, he reminded himself as he floated out into the cavern. Right now, he was on a personal mission. Down below, he saw a group of dark spirits speaking to one another. They saw him descend, but ignored him. _I see my reputation precedes me._

He found Pitch in the kitchen pulling out cups. Pitch looked up, eyes narrowing. "Are you sure you should be flying about?"

_Like you give a damn._ Jack winced internally at the flash of hot rage and tried to quell it. Pitch had already sensed it though, and rolled his eyes.

"If you're here to pick a fight, don't."

"Still getting propositioned?" Jack hopped up on the counter – the same spot he and Pitch had kissed before they were interrupted by Isobel. He really needed to work on blocking out these memories.

"No. They are willing to fight for me, should I call on them. Which I won't." Pitch glanced at him and added, "Make yourself useful and make tea, will you? Or is the simplistic task too much for you?"

"I can do it," Jack snapped. Pitch wasn't fazed by his outburst and glided out of the kitchen. Jack glared after him before filling the kettle with water and slamming it down on the stove, cranking up the heat. Then he started pulling out more cups, covering them with a thick layer of ice.

"You owe me a new set if those crack." Jack ignored him as he reentered the kitchen and continued pulling down teacups. Warm hands covered his, annoyingly gentle, and lips pressed to his neck. "I think that's enough." Jack jerked, but Pitch held him firm. "Have I done something?"

Jack's heart admitted yes, but his head grumbled no. His mouth said, "Can we talk?"

"When everyone has gone."

"I can stick around and amuse myself."

Pitch nodded and tugged him out of the kitchen. "Don't go too deep into the tunnels."

"What happened to 'stay out of the tunnels'?" Jack sneered, imitating Pitch's accent flawlessly.

Pitch gave him a very patient look. "I know you won't listen. Just don't go in too deep. I am not always—"

"In control of the shadows, I know." Jack flew out into the open and up above the guests who were still ignoring him. He alighted on a bridge and waited for Pitch to become immersed in a conversation before running along the stone to the darkest edge of the cavern. He dropped down silently in front of the secretive tunnel.

He realized that he would need Onyx in order to get through, but he decided to try on his own one more time. The whispers started as soon as he stepped in, but for some reason, they didn't seem as loud. In fact, they didn't even imitate voices he knew. And he could see where he stepped. He inched forward cautiously, then took a big jump forward.

The whispers swelled, but did not overwhelm him.

Confidence instilled, he kept walking all the way to the end. The door was visible, and he turned to look behind him, wondering what had changed. Maybe it was a trap. He shoved one hand in his hoodie pocket nervously and felt the arrowhead. Frowning, he pulled it out and was surprised to hear the shadows still lingering near him hiss.

_Checkmate._

With a toothy grin, he shoved the arrowhead into the middle of the door. As soon as he took his hand away, he could see. The tunnel was lit with its normal dimness, and he couldn't sense any Fearlings about. They were gone. The grin slowly slid from his face as he faced the door again and touched the handle. This was serious. He was going to invade Pitch's privacy a second time, more consciously than the first.

He paused to inspect the kernel of anger in the bottom of his heart. What were his real motives for doing this? Who was he kidding? He was disappointed in himself for loving – _starting_ to love Pitch, but he was surprisingly very pissed that Pitch was treating this like nothing, even if it was nothing. He reluctantly admitted to himself that this invasion wouldn't just be to satisfy his curiosity. It would be to find something to strike a blow to Pitch's heart.

_So…revenge._

Jack pulled the handle.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ah. Yes, well, I could strangle Pitch. Jerk...anywho, I've got some unhappy news. This'll be the last update for a couple days. My hands are getting uber tired (I've been writing for ten days straight, people!). And I need to figure out how to work the plot. At most, I'll be gone for a week, but I'm sure you guys have dealt with stories that update at that pace before, so it's okay, yeah?

Shout out to my two most frequent reviewers, MoonKent, yamixyugi-Sasunaru-yaoi-lover. You both make me smile. Seriously.

Something I've been meaning to say: if you have the talent to create these stories about other people's characters, then _build your own world_. There is nothing more satisfying than looking at a page filled with the words of your imagination. Do it! Fanfiction is practice for me. I use it to practice short stories, write decent endings (I hope), etc. I've written books before. Only thing missing is a publisher, and that's attainable. Use your talent, people! Don't just settle for this (though this is _very_ fun).

I'm watching ROTG as I write this. Who thinks Pitch is like Loki from The Avengers? There are moments where I can just see the god of mischief shine through. Heck, I could even substitute Jude Law's voice with Tom Hiddleston's. Not that there's anything wrong with Jude's. Both of them are sexy and similar, vocally and physically.

That's all I got. See you in a week or so.


	11. In Recompense

**In Recompense**

Jack was aware of the bed this time, and he kept his head low as he crawled out from underneath the four-poster, shimmying along the dusty floor until he could stand upright. This was going to be a very thorough investigation. Pitch was so insistent that they had nothing, but Jack was determined to find something to turn the tables. His heart _hurt_. Although he knew it wasn't the right thing to do, he wanted to hurt Pitch back.

He took a turn about the room, deciding to walk instead of float. Honestly, the amount of dust on everything made it obvious that he had been through here once before. There was no hiding the evidence, and if Pitch happened to know he was here and got mad, then all the better. Jack made sure to leave visible footprints as he moved.

On this second, closer observation, he could see that this was clearly a guest room. It lacked in furnishings aside from a bed, a broken dresser, and a cracked mirror; it was completely impersonal. The dappled sunlight pierced brightly through the ruined curtains, and Jack watched dust float eerily in the beams of light, but he could tell that he wouldn't find any dirt on Pitch in this place. He left the room and stood in the open strip of hallway, wondering which room to explore next.

His nose tickled and he tilted his head back to fend off the incoming sneeze. The urge slowly faded, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at a door in the ceiling.

_Aha!_

If any place was bound to hold secrets, it would be the attic. Jack started to float up, then paused and looked around the room. Aside from knowing how to have fun, he also knew how to save the best for last. The attic was bound to hold the most treasures of memories past. It was common knowledge – in the stories at least. Whether it rang true for this house or not, Jack didn't care. The attic would definitely be his last stop.

He guessed that this floor was dedicated to the bedrooms, so he decided to start downstairs. He slowly walked down the staircase, wincing with every threatening creak and groan the wood made beneath his bare feet. The splinters that cropped up couldn't even pierce his calloused feet.

When he stopped at the bottom, the sneeze that had been lurking within him forced its way out. Jack rubbed his nose and looked down at his feet. His toes were just shy of an elegant swirl of gold vines skirting the edges of a whole tile. It struck him then: he may have been snooping because he was mad, but this was still a memory. Although it was run down, it must have had something once that made it special to the Nightmare King.

Jack needed to keep an open mind.

Through his second observation of the house, he could see that it wasn't just a broken shack. It had once been a place of elegance, of warmth. The detailed carvings in the wood, the delicate patterns etched in the tile, the classic paintings – even in all its wrecked glory, the chandelier must have shone like the sun when it was lit up. And Pitch must have greeted his guests, if he had guests, at the front door with one of those small smiles that told Jack he was perfectly content with the moment.

With these new eyes, Jack proceeded through the rest of the first floor.

The kitchen was no longer a place of bent kitchen utensils, shattered plates, smashed countertops, and an icebox that was clearly outdated because Jack actually knew that it was an _icebox_ and needed sore replacing with a refrigerator. It was now a room Jack could see in his mind's eye as warm and filled with the smells of spice and soup and nice things you made in the winter. He looked at the ancient oven and tried to imagine Pitch pulling cookies out in an apron.

_Oh, God._

When Jack had caught his breath after laughing so hard, he straightened – shit, if he ever saw Pitch in a kitchen again, he'd cry – and tried to think of something else. It was summer, so what was something the kids were eating around this time?

Watermelon.

The image that appeared in his head was more realistic, and, in his opinion, a lot sexier. Pitch, standing at the black marble counter, chopping a watermelon into slices to share with Jack. The pink flesh of the fruit passing his lips, juice dribbling down his forearms, a tongue snaking out to lick it away. Bare-chested.

Jack decided it best to leave the kitchen.

The dining room produced a less arousing scene for him. The table was split in half and had collapsed in on itself, and a small chandelier lay smashed in the middle of the wreckage. The carpet looked like something had clawed through it. However, when Jack focused his eyes on the sunlight that streamed through the windows and gave the destitute room a powerful golden glow, he could see a small party amongst friends, Pitch Black at the head of the table raising a glass of something wonderful, faint laughter echoing in the silence.

For a brief moment, Jack dared to imagine the Guardians around that table, himself at Pitch's side, an ashy hand pressed tightly against Jack's blue hoodie, drawing him in…but the thought was too ludicrous and the illusion dropped.

_Keep it together, Jack._

The den was almost a larger version of the sitting room in Pitch's lair. Two armchairs, plus a couch that looked like it had been eaten by wild animals. In fact, it may as well have been, because the French doors on the far side of the room which led outside were open, bumping softly against the walls on their lopsided angles.

Jack glared at the fireplace when he immediately saw himself curled up at Pitch's side without a care for the heat or the world. He was here to find something to piss Pitch off, not dream about something sappy that would never happen. Maybe he needed to rethink his battle strategy. So far, it was like Pitch was winning, and he wasn't even playing!

The library was in the least destitute state, to his surprise. Jack walked round and round and was astounded by the number of books that filled the tall shelves. There were ceiling-to-floor windows covered in thick black curtains embroidered with gold, and only two sharp slices of sunlight made it through. The only problem with this place was that the light fixtures had been torn out of their wall sockets and a bookshelf had been knocked over. Other than that and the dust, the armchair by the fireplace – Jack decided Pitch had a thing for both – was untouched.

This time, Jack could only see Pitch in his head, but it wasn't a vision of happiness. He imagined the lonely shade reclining in that armchair, staring dazedly at the empty fireplace, a book lying unread in his lap.

Jack twisted his lips. How long had Pitch spent his life unseen as Jack had? Three hundred years paled in comparison.

"Crap." The mutter was hushed as Jack rubbed his eyes and sniffled, trying to clear away the dust. He was done with this. It was time to explore the attic.

* * *

There were ghosts.

There were ghosts, and they breathed with the breeze that pushed through the broken shutters on the far wall.

Jack stared at all the white sheets and the revenge slipped away from his heart, drained all the ways to his toes and dribbled through the cracks of the rough floorboards. This was wrong. This was all wrong, and he was such an idiot. His motives were wrong and his heart was in the wrong place. He didn't even…

The sigh that flew from his lips was louder than the soft flutter of the sheets.

He was done with revenge. He could not in good conscience explore _this_ place with that kind of motive. It was his own fault that he was letting his feelings get out of hand. Pitch had led him on, but when Jack thought about it, it was only in his nature, wasn't it? A king of darkness and lies and shadows and nightmares couldn't help but do that. Jack had only been stupid enough to think differently.

And he still cared for the son of a bitch.

Another sigh, and then he moved. His hands were careful as they pulled sheets away from the items they hid. Chairs, desks, boxes, mirrors, they all appeared one by one as his nimble fingers divested them of their covers. Jack's icy blue eyes skimmed over each item, and he was immediately able to tell that none of them were important.

Then he got to the trunks.

The patterns carved into the ancient wood were the same as the patterns in the tiles in the foyer, the same as the patterns on the destroyed rugs and curtains he had seen around the house. He knew they were special, and he immediately began flipping up latches, delicately opening each lid with care.

His heart stirred unwillingly as he was met with the sight of elegance. Rugs, carefully based in and embroidered in gold. Tapestries, masterfully stitched, and Jack's eyes ate up the images that danced across them so quickly that he could not comprehend the stories they told. Clothes, woven lightly in colors Jack would never believe Pitch could have owned in his entire life. Books, their pages weighed down by heavy covers laden with patterns made of silver and gold metals.

It was foreign. It was beautiful. It was…completely unlike Pitch. None of this fit the image of the Nightmare King. Jack could never imagine Pitch surrounded by these colors, wearing these clothes. It was too light, too ethereal to be associated with Pitch Black, the Boogeyman. And yet…Jack wanted to know what Pitch would look like in an environment with these items.

He moved onto the next trunk, stripping away the sheet, but when he tugged at the latches, he found that it was locked. Unconsciously, he looked around as though he were afraid Pitch would appear in the corner and strangle him for this blatant intrusion. Then, with a small smirk, he blew ice over the latches and broke them.

A shiver crawled down his neck for some reason, but he rolled it off and opened the lid.

The trunk was filled with weaponry. Well-kept weaponry, by the looks of it. Belts with daggers and knives strapped to them, a thin rapier wrapped in silk. The next trunk held a longbow in perfect condition. The bowstring sang when Jack plucked it lightly with his finger. Beneath it was a quiver, but it was completely empty.

Something about the trunks was special. Everything in them was fresh and clean and didn't look like they had suffered the effects of time. Even the trunks were beautiful and well-polished. And they all bore the elegant spiraling patterns of gold on them. Jack stood and looked around. The rest of the items in this attic were unimportant. These items here, in all of the trunks, were where the stories lay. They were Pitch's true past.

Jack covered everything back up. He knew he'd be coming back here again, soon, hopefully. As he finished tossing the last sheet over the last trunk, he noticed something embedded into the floor beneath it: a trapdoor. He quickly pushed the trunk aside and pulled up on the old latch, poking his head out.

It led to another bedroom. Jack dropped down into it, closing the door behind him. He could tell that this was the master bedroom because of the amount of space, the size of the four-poster bed, the grandiose stature of the wardrobe, the embellishing frame around the full-length mirror on the wall. There were two doors that he didn't bother investigating. Probably a closet and a bathroom; there was also a dresser by the door, and Jack went to it, kicking up dust. He rifled through the drawers, but they were all empty. There was nothing else to look through save the wardrobe.

Jack stepped in front of it, but when his fingers closed around the handles, he paused.

_Let's make this the last thing. Then I'll go. I promise._

He inhaled and pulled.

At first, he thought he was staring at Pitch Black, and his heart jumped in his throat when the light fell on the tall, black shadow. But as he stood there, frozen, staring, he began to see the gold lines and elegant swirls that delicately crossed the dark figure, and he noted that there were no feet or hands or head.

It was a suit of armor.

Jack pushed the doors all the way open and touched the suit. It wasn't a full-body; only enough to cover the upper half of the body and part of the legs, but it was enticing. A black cape fanned out from behind the armor, long and regal. His hands skimmed the black material, and he picked wonderingly at the gold patterns, finding that they were made of metal. The winding gold formed leaves and vines and symbols he could not identify for the life of him, but it was beautiful, and he leaned in and pressed his cheek to the cool material.

He thought it was his imagination, but he could have sworn that the scent of midnight and shadows clung to it.

_This is kind of weird,_ Jack thought, running his hands over the chest piece, _but I kind of don't care._

He felt a lump beneath the heart of the armor and quickly floated up so he could reach down the neckpiece and feel around. He struck a snag, and he discovered that it was a pocket. His fingers quickly closed around the hard metal object there and withdrew. When he opened his hand, he saw a pendant.

_Alright. This is getting interesting._

He turned the oval-shaped charm over and over, entranced by the gold. How could Pitch possess this rich color and never wear it? Jack finally noticed the hinges on one side, the clasp on the other, and smiled. A locket? There was probably a picture of someone important inside, especially if it had been in the inner breast pocket of the armor.

_Someone Pitch wanted to keep close to his heart?_ Jack wondered wistfully as he worked the clasp. Just as he wedged his fingernail under it, he heard a faint call. He froze immediately and cocked his head, listening.

The call came again. His name.

Jack looked around, breath coming in deep gasps. There was evidence of his trespassing _everywhere_. He didn't want to make Pitch mad, not after what he had seen today. God forbid the shade should shut him out of his life because of this!

Jack raced out of the master bedroom and went down the hall to the guest bedroom, intent on taking the portal, but the voice was closer now. The tunnels in the lair really carried sound when Pitch wanted them to, didn't they?

"Jack? You said you wanted to talk, didn't you?"

Jack entered the room halfway, thinking he could make it, but he knew he was screwed when Pitch's next call stopped midway. The silence that followed caused Jack's heart to nearly stop, and his terror heightened to the point where his head spun and he tripped clumsily backing out of the room."

"…Jack?"

A low question. No – a warning. Pitch was in the tunnel.

"_No._"

Shock, disbelief. Pitch was seeing the lack of shadow guards, the open door. The _open_ door.

_I am a Grade A idiot,_ Jack admitted as he scrambled back onto his feet.

There was a furious roar, and a bang. Pitch was coming.

"_Frost!_"

Jack didn't know where to go, so he ran blindly back into the master bedroom. He raised his staff, silently apologized, and blasted wind at the French doors, slamming them open. Then he leapt into the wardrobe and closed the doors as quickly and as quietly as possible. Just in time too, as he saw through the crack that Pitch had rushed in. Jack couldn't see his face, and he didn't want to. He could only pray the man would take the bait.

Pitch did, for he went to the doors and out onto the balcony. Jack poked his head out and saw Pitch launch into the air on his shadows, shouting Jack's name. His last name. Jack took it as a sign that they weren't on good terms anymore.

_Were we ever?_ he wondered as he skittered back to the guest bedroom and slid under the bed. The portal door was still open, the arrowhead still wedged in the middle. He didn't bother removing it as he raced out.

As he took flight to the summer air on the surface world, he realized that he was still clutching the locket.

* * *

The snow he made was just powder, not good for packing at all. He tapped the surface of the water, but it didn't even freeze over. His entire pond had thawed, as had the rest of his environment. He hadn't the heart to set it right. He was completely deaf to the happy shouts of the children who were splashing around in the shallows; he ignored the kids swimming in a race to reach the other side; he blocked out Jamie's concerned stare from the other side of the pond.

The first believer stared a few minutes more before standing and wading around through the shallows to the frost spirit. He plopped down right next to Jack, hair dripping from his last cannonball, and nudged him. "Something wrong?"

Jack shrugged. He really didn't want to talk. Or think. Or breathe, really. Yeah, maybe if he stopped breathing, this would all go away.

Jamie drummed his fingers on his wet knees. "Talking will make you feel better."

No, Jack was quite sure it wouldn't. But he humored Jamie a little by mumbling, "I think I did something really bad."

"You _think_?"

"I _know_," Jack corrected glumly.

"What did you do?"

"I…went somewhere I shouldn't have gone."

"Oh." Jamie bobbed his head patiently, waiting for him to elaborate.

Jack gritted his teeth. "I really don't want to talk."

"That's okay," Jamie said causally. Both of them looked up when Mick approached, sopping wet from the race he had just lost.

"Who're you talking to?"

Jamie grinned. "Jack Frost."

Jack sighed. "Jamie, don't bother. I'm not in the mood to prove my existence right now. In fact, if I didn't exist at all, it'd be all good."

Jamie ignored him. "I'm serious, Mick."

Mick rolled his eyes. "Okay, Bennett, sure. What would Jack Frost be doing out here in the middle of summer?"

Jamie glanced at the frost spirit. "Sulking, apparently. He says he did something bad to someone."

Jack noticed the way Mick's eyes narrowed slightly as he said, "Well, does he feel bad about doing it?"

Jamie turned to Jack. "Do you?"

Jack tried not to make his glare too scathing. "What do you think?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Does he know the person he did the bad thing to?" Mick continued.

Jack nodded, and Jamie did too.

"Are they friends?"

Jack pulled up a fistful of grass. "I _thought_ we were…though I guess I was just being stupid." _Thought we were more than that too._

"Let's say yes," Jamie answered.

"Then he should just go apologize," Mick concluded, clearly having no qualms about humoring the invisible man Jamie spoke to. "There's no sense in waiting around. I think that'll make it worse."

Jack stared at the kid. He had seen the cruel expression on his face when he had been Jamie's tormentor, but to now see him being so patient and friendly was bizarre. Pitch had done that. Had changed him. Had made things better. Had given the boy a chance at redemption.

"Maybe there's a chance for me too," Jack whispered to himself.

"You done with the crazy talk?" Mick asked Jamie, walking away. "'Cause it's hot out and the pond is too warm. Maybe we should just go back to the pool and—"

Well-packed snow burst on the back of his red-haired head, and he whirled, eyes blown comically wide.

"What the—"

Jack's next snowball hit him square in the chest and made him topple backwards into the warm water. When Mick sat up and had finished spluttering and wiping water out of his eyes, he stared at Jamie, mouth open so wide that Jack wondered if he could hit him right there with another snowball.

Mick stared at Jamie for a long time, then his eyes shifted over to the space where Jack was sitting, and they grew to the size of saucers. Jack grinned and waved. Mick waved back, and a strangled noise wiggled out of the back of his throat.

"Oh. My. _God._"

A warmth spread in Jack's chest as he felt the flame of the new believer grow. He'd never get tired of that sensation. He stood and spun his staff happily. "You know, for a kid, you give pretty good advice." He extended a hand, which Mick took in a daze, and helped him up.

"C-cold," Mick stammered, staring at the pale appendage. Behind them, Jamie was jumping for joy, and the other kids in the water saw that Jack had a new believer, and they cheered and sent water flying in glistening arcs under the sun.

"Of course I'm cold. What did you expect?" Jack put his staff near the water's edge. "Now, why don't we cool things off around here?"

* * *

One glorious hour later, after jumping off the surface of the half of the pond that was frozen over and diving into warm waters over and over again, throwing snowballs at each other as they swam, and an intense round of Marco Polo, the resident Jack Frost believers of Burgess said their goodbyes and made their way home.

Jack smiled as he watched Mick jump in excitement and poke Jamie repeatedly with questions about Jack and the other Guardians, begging for a story that was obviously there. Jack had a feeling that those two would be friends for a very long time. When they had all disappeared through the trees, he turned his eyes to the familiar ridge just across the pond.

Yesterday had been disastrous (true), and Pitch was very angry with him (also true), and he probably wanted to slit Jack's throat (definitely true), but Mick had been right: prolonging this would only make things worse. He needed to patch this up now before he lost the courage. Not that he really had any courage right now. Jack didn't know what was making his body move through the air, but it sure as hell wasn't courage.

When he went through the tunnel and came out on the ledge, he immediately found himself greeted by five or so Nightmares. He cooed to Onyx, who nudged his back insistently.

"Whoa, okay! Look, I'm here to apologize. Where's Pitch?"

Onyx tossed her head in the direction of the corridor, and Jack flew down to it and kept his footsteps as soft as possible. The sitting room was open, and when he peered in, he saw Pitch in his usual armchair, deeply engrossed in a thick tome. Jack took a deep breath and stepped in, heart racing faster than Bunny's ever would.

Pitch either sensed him or his tumultuous emotions, because he immediately looked up at him. Genuine surprise spread across his ashen face like a spider's web.

Jack frowned. "What?"

Pitch slowly leaned back in his armchair, expression unchanging. "I'm…shocked, really."

Jack tried for a half-smile, not sure what he was getting at. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just shocked that you'd have the audacity to set foot in here, or anywhere near my lair after what you did yesterday."

That voice was a brutal knife to Jack's heart. Pitch sounded so calm and dismissive, as though Jack were a stranger to him. There was no hurt in his tone, not even anger. It was just cold.

"Pitch, I—"

"You're a trespasser." Ah, there was the anger. "And a thief." Jack wondered if Pitch had discovered that the locket was missing, but the shade continued, "I'm amazed you didn't take the arrowhead back on your way out."

"Hey, I pulled that out of the ground!" Jack protested. "How was that stealing?"

"That land belongs to me, Frost." Again with the last names! "Everything on it belongs to me, and you took something. Now, if you would kindly leave, I have some reading to catch up on."

Jack took a cautious step forward. "I just came to apologize."

"Apology not accepted. Get out."

Jack's mouth tried to work out something appeasing, something that might coax Pitch into listening for a minute, but what came out was, "No."

The book slammed shut, and the next thing he knew, the floor dropped out from under him and he found himself standing in the cavern. Jack's stomach had practically leapt into his throat. He remembered that sensation, when he had come here hunting for his memories. Pitch had pulled and pushed him all around with his stupid teleportation technique, dizzying and disorienting him.

Jack growled and marched back towards the corridor, but as soon as he set foot in its darkness, a Nightmare Man rose up and punched him square in the chest, sending him flying back into a towering column. Jack grunted as he struck, and only managed to keep himself standing by leaning on his staff. With a snarl, he blasted the Nightmare Man with ice, then charged and swung.

As the creature shattered, more came.

It was stupid, really. They were fighting without a reason. Sure, Pitch had a reason to be mad at Jack, but not _this_ mad.

Pitch must have grown tired sending things his way, because the shadows retreated suddenly, just as Jack was drawing in his strength to deliver a particularly nasty shock of ice lightening. Pitch stepped out of the corridor's darkness, his face still unbelievably neutral.

"Leave, Frost, before I do something I regret."

Jack's eyes widened, and a laugh clawed its way from his throat. "Regret? Oh, so you can actually process that sort of emotion?"

Twin eclipses narrowed. "I don't want the Guardians knocking down my door because I skewered their little boy blue."

"You'd regret hurting me? Is that what you're getting at?" Jack knew he had to shut up, because Pitch didn't actually _know_ he was starting to love him. It hurt, far worse than any physical wound he had received. "Too late, Pitch. You already hurt me!"

"You look fine to me," came the caustic reply.

Jack ignored him. "I guess it really is my fault though. You were just doing it all because you wanted to see if you could seduce me into being a little fuck buddy! Should have known that was how it would end."

Pitch took a step forward, his mask never breaking. "Is that what this is about?"

Jack shrugged loosely and twirled his staff. "No, it's good, really. It was a good run, we both got something out of it, though it didn't last very long. Really, shame on me though for actually _thinking_ that you could…"

The words died in his throat, and he could only think about what he could do when he got out of here to clear his mind of everything. Maybe dive headfirst into a mountain? Retreat to Antarctica? He looked at Pitch and saw that the emotionless mask was gone. Something dark and leering and uncaring had taken its place; it was a look that said Pitch was probably going to rip his heart to shreds.

"Is that all, _Jack?_" His name was spat with hostile velvet, and Jack wanted to cover his ears. "You invaded my privacy because I broke your heart?"

Jack choked on a response, even though he couldn't even think of a response. His brain was shutting down, and he could only think that this was his fault, he had gotten in over his head, he should have stopped a long time ago—

"No, wait," Pitch lilted, strolling forward so casually that it looked like he was having fun. "You thought that I was joking when I said it was only indulgence? Oh, don't tell me. You thought that maybe you could turn this into more?"

He walked around Jack and paused behind him before leaning in and pressing his lips to his ear.

"Did you start to _love_ me?"

Jack shuddered, and a strained noise made it past his lips. "I…"

"Let me tell you something." Pitch came around to look him square in the eyes, his face completely wiped clean of all the other hurtful things Jack had seen. "I don't love you, Jack Frost. And I never will."

It…didn't hurt.

Jack blinked a few times, unable to assess the draining feelings in his heart. Peace was pervading his mind, a sort of resignation. It didn't hurt.

But his vision was blurring.

The silver head dipped, and the tears spilled over. He was amazed that his voice was steady. "Right. I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," Jack said, and coughed once to clear his throat. "Let's make this the end of it all, then. We'll just be, um…comrades on the battlefield or whatever." Pitch started to move away, but Jack hurriedly said, "Wait! Could…just one more for the road?" One kiss. That was all he wanted right now. Something to ease the pain.

There was a sigh. "I'd rather not give you a reason to get more attached."

Jack laughed and quickly wiped away his frigid tears, raising his head. "Now I get why you wanted me to take your Nightmares home."

"Yes, well," Pitch intoned, glaring at him, "I foolishly thought I could trust you at the time. Now I see I was wrong."

Jack shook his head desperately. "No, no, you weren't! Please, I'm sorry, I was angry."

"That I made you love me?" Pitch sneered.

_Now_ it hurt.

Jack knew he had to leave before the pain crippled him from the inside out. "What can I do to make you trust me?"

"Trust? What happened to love?"

"Please don't mock me," Jack said quietly. "Not now."

Pitch snorted and slinked back into the corridor. Jack heard a door slam, and his knees took that as the signal to give out. He sank to the ground, clutching his staff, but apparently he was done crying. After a few minutes, a soft, warm nose nudged his arm, and he looked up into Onyx's burning eyes. The other Nightmares huddled close almost sympathetically.

"Boy, I really screwed up this time, didn't I?" Jack murmured, scratching them behind the ears when they dipped their heads for his attention. He pushed himself up on his staff, then looked at the simple piece of wood.

He had betrayed Pitch's trust. Now it was time to earn it back.

Jack held the staff out to Onyx, who stared at it with confusion. Then, after a minute, black wisps of her sandy mane snaked out and curled around the wood, accepting the peace offering. Jack smiled uncomfortably. It felt very odd, not having it in his hand. "Want to give me a ride up?"

Without waiting for an answer, he hopped on her back and steered her into the air. When they were outside, he jumped off and patted the side of her head affectionately. "Make sure Pitch takes good care of that."

Then he walked over the ridge under the blazing sun and didn't look back.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm back. Bad news for you guys. I keep splitting chapters (but not this one) because they get too long, so this stupid fic just keeps getting longer and longer. Or...is that good news? (No, I personally think it's bad.)

For Pitch's armor, I'm actually going off of an image I saw on deviantART that I thought suited Pitch perfectly. His daughter is in it too, making it equally beautiful. So, if you'd like to see what the vague description in this chapter looks like, here's a link. Remove the spaces, I guess.

phobs . /art/ RotG-Love-with-all-my-heart-book-spoiler-alert- 339505904

The pic is not mine, though I _do_ have a dA account.


	12. Cross My Mind

**Cross My Mind**

It was _weird_. Not very difficult, but weird. He was surprised that he still had power without his staff. Had he known this when Pitch had broken his staff and left him in that crevice, he'd have shot back to the Guardians immediately. But he hadn't tried calling upon his powers then. He had been too wrought with guilt. Now, when he called, the wind listened to him, so he knew he wouldn't be stranded. He could still ice things over with his touch. He wasn't sure if he could make it snow, but he didn't want to try because it was still summer, and as fun as it would be to send a blizzard down to Florida, it was probably inappropriate.

Jack spent the week getting used to navigating without his staff, and by the end, he felt comfortable. Having not been to the Pole since the attack, he decided that now was the time for a visit.

He discovered, when he touched down and entered the Globe Room, that he was not exactly welcome. He knew immediately by the way North's face darkened when he looked up from the globe's control panel and saw him.

"You're making me a little nervous," Jack said as lightly as he dared as the Guardian approached. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," North said with a small chuckle, but even he didn't look or sound like he believed himself. "Where have you been?"

Jack shrugged. "Here and there. This whole thing with Faust is making me feel weird, so I've been clearing my head. Stress-free stuff."

North nodded. "Is good, very good. Er, Jack, I am needing to talk to you about…" He looked around and saw that the yetis were minding their own business, tending to the globe, and the elves were being their naturally scatterbrained selves. "Why is he making me do the difficult things?"

"He?" Something clicked. "You mean Pitch?"

North hesitated. "You and he are having problems?"

Jack grimaced. That was probably an understatement. "We had a misunderstanding."

North's brow furrowed, and he directed Jack to his private office. Once inside, the door locked and he turned. Jack could feel a talk coming on.

"Jack, what's wrong?"

Jack ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. "What did he tell you?"

North sank into his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "He said you have been running about his home, looking through things you shouldn't be."

Jack nodded in admittance. "I may have."

"Jack, you cannot be prying into what people want left alone."

Jack scowled. He didn't come here to be lectured. He crossed his arms defiantly and bit out, "What do you want me to say? I already tried apologizing to him, but that didn't exactly blow over so well."

"Is that the reason you have not been here for a week?"

Jack looked away.

North sighed. "Pyotr was asking for you, but you never came back after the attack."

Jack recalled the beautiful frost spirit and wondered if he was around here. "Maybe I'll show up to the next meeting and—"

North was already shaking his head. "Pitch has…asked that you not be present at the meetings for a while."

This was not happening. "Are you actually taking his side?" North was silent. "Holy—you're serious? I thought you hated the guy!"

"I do not like Pitch," North agreed, "but we need him to be cooperative at these meetings. We are all in danger as long as Faust continues to steal dark magic."

Jack shuffled his feet awkwardly. He had been doing so well this week, pushing aside his feelings for Pitch as best as he could, coping without his staff, praying that Pitch would trust him again if he had it in his possession. And now Pitch was throwing his gesture back in his face by having someone else deliver a message of rejection!

"Fine," he sniffed. "I know when I'm not wanted." He unlocked the door and left, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket.

"Jack," North said, following him, "I'm sure he is just feeling hurt."

"Hurt?" Jack couldn't even put anger into the word. "Yeah, I'm sure." The wind stirred beneath his feet and lifted him up. He gave North a smile. "I'll catch you later. I've still got that snowflake, so give me a call when I can come back, okay?"

North nodded, staring at him, and then his sky blue eyes widened. "Jack! Where is your staff?"

Jack ignored the question.

* * *

North-west England was a little rainy. Jack tried to steer clear of the storm clouds, but he got soaked anyway. His flight pattern was choppy, and he was distracted. He steered himself towards the mountains the broken house resided in, and circled around low above the treetops until, after a few minutes, he spotted the roof of the dwelling.

Jack rose back up in the air and held himself there, staring down at what he could only assume was once Pitch's sanctuary. He didn't know where to go from here. He was lost.

"Alright," he murmured quietly to the sky. "Alright."

He pulled out the locket he had kept safe and ran his fingers over the exterior. He still hadn't opened it. To do that would be a final breech into Pitch's life, and he couldn't risk it. He wanted Pitch to trust him again. He needed to return this too. However, there was a chance that Pitch would be down in that house. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

It was too late. He couldn't stop this. Whatever was happening, it wouldn't stop until it had run its course.

* * *

Jack should have expected it, really. With the way things were going downhill so quickly, it was only natural that they declined even further. With the wind whistling loudly in his ears – a storm had struck Burgess and was growing particularly fierce – he completely didn't hear the flapping of wings, nor did he see the dark shape hurdling towards him from above.

The weight slammed into him and he fell with it, spiraling towards the forest below. He felt a something dull poking his shoulder and he knew exactly who was on top of him. But he didn't have his staff.

He _didn't_ have his _staff_.

Survival instinct, he had always supposed, was a powerful thing. He had never found himself forced into a scenario where he was struggling just to keep drawing breath. Even during the attack on North's compound, lying limp beneath a myriad of talons, he hadn't felt like he was backed into a corner. He had just quietly hoped that his friends would stay safe.

Now he was alone, and he had no one to care about but himself.

The dull poking became real and sharp and painful, and he felt his flesh give.

He screamed.

He didn't know what happened. One minute he felt hot breath on his cheek; the next, icy cold relief. The shriek came from several meters above him, and he managed to cross his arms in front of him just as he struck the tree tops. Branches cracked beneath his momentum, and a second later, he was crashing and skidding in the dirt. He sat up immediately, not feeling too bad at all. In fact, his entire body was tingling, something he usually felt after fighting with the magic he channeled through his staff. He didn't know what this was, but it felt _good._

Pained squawking had him jumping up and running in the direction the birdman had crashed. He slipped several times on the wet grass before he came upon a pathetic sight: the tengu was scraping his now frozen hands across rough tree bark. He looked at Jack, blinking rain out of his panicked hawk eyes and trying to speak, but all he managed was a frantic cry.

Jack's heart pulsed sympathetically, but only for a second. He kicked some mud in the creature's direction and snapped, "Hey! Tengu! Why are you here?"

Those eyes finally calmed somewhat and narrowed, and the creature croaked weakly, "I have a _name_."

Jack suddenly recalled when he had first seen this thing threatening Pitch in his lair, and he remembered that those were the exact words spoken. Maybe he needed to approach this differently. He crouched down and said in a slightly gentler voice, "What's your name, then?"

The tengu glared at Jack, as though he were expecting something cruel to pop out of his mouth next. When Jack waited expectantly, he rubbed his frozen hands together uncomfortably and murmured, "Maro."

The way he spoke his name, hesitant as though he couldn't believe someone actually wanted to know it, was very subdued. Jack could deal with that, even if this person had tried to kill him.

He smiled gently and said, "Maro, huh? Sounds cool."

"Do not patronize me, frost boy," Maro snapped, and Jack was reminded that this person was definitely not subdued.

"Fine," he said flatly. "Then tell me why you were trying to smash me into a pulp."

"You ruined everything," Maro hissed. "You weren't supposed to be outside. We'd have made it in if you weren't out."

"Wha—are you talking about the attack at the Pole? Seriously?"

"If I got you, maybe that bastard Black would consider listening."

Jack laughed without thinking. It threw Maro off, and he used that to his advantage. "If you think I'm important to that jerkwad, you've got another thing coming." He threw his arms wide. "Notice something missing? Asshole took my staff. Left me defenseless." The lie was a necessary evil and slipped out with ease.

Maro held up his hands. "You don't seem defenseless to me."

Jack's lips twisted to one side. "If I get rid of that, can we talk?"

One black eyebrow went up. "Talk?"

"Yeah. Just talk."

Maro nodded once, and Jack knew he probably shouldn't trust him, but he felt much safer knowing he could defend himself, even without the staff. He took Maro's frigid hands and recalled his frosty magic with some difficulty; the flesh became pink. Maro snatched his hands back and rubbed them vigorously as Jack sat down in the wet grass and crossed his legs.

"Now, can we—"

Of _course_ the first thing Maro did was spring at Jack and pin him by the throat. "You have to be the stupidest spirit I've ever met," he sneered with glee.

Jack spluttered incoherently as he saw the other hand raise, talons free and ready to kill. He managed to get out a weak sentence.

"I _get_ it."

"What's to get?" Maro asked.

"The…disregard fo-_ack!_"

Maro slowly loosened his grip, and Jack knew he could take him out right there, but he chose not to. He cleared his throat once and said, "How everyone disregards you, right? Don't think you're big enough or important enough to be used."

The hand left his throat completely. "What would you know?"

"They don't take me seriously on my side," Jack admitted, not fazed by the fact that he was conversing with an enemy who had nearly ripped his throat out. "Maybe they don't go so far as to forget my name—"

"They don't forget!" Maro snarled angrily, leaning in threateningly. "They know my name now!"

"Because you made them remember," Jack agreed calmingly, hands up in a peaceable gesture. "By striking a deal with Faust."

"You don't know anything, kid."

"I know. But I think if I did know, I could help." And Jack found that he believed his own words.

Maro looked away.

That was fine. Jack could be patient. He had dealt with stubborn children before. How could this guy be any different? "So. Maro. What does your name mean?"

"…It's Japanese. Means 'myself'."

Now they were getting somewhere. "It's a good name."

Maro snorted, shifting so he could stretch his legs out and lean against a tree trunk. He seemed comfortable enough to believe Jack wasn't going anywhere soon. "I'd like to think so."

"You want to live up to that name, huh? Be yourself, let no one influence you."

"Yes."

"Is that why you signed up for this?"

Maro fixed one bright eye on him and cocked his head, very bird-esque. Then he folded his great black wings in behind him and said, "You won't get me to betray them, you brat."

"I'm not asking for you to switch sides. I'd just like to know why you guys are attacking my friends. Are you willing to tell me that much?"

Maro slowly nodded. "You get three questions."

The rain was clearing up, and Jack shifted uncomfortably in his wet clothes. "Fine…are you working with Faust?"

"Yes."

Jack grinned. A confession. Proof that they were in cahoots! But then he scowled. How could he bring this forward as evidence? It was word of mouth. Maro was smirking like he knew Jack's dilemma.

"Problem, frost spirit?"

"I've got a name too," Jack replied. "I'm pretty sure you know it, so how about you use it?"

"Fine, _Jack_. Next question."

Jack thought very carefully. "Why did you side with Faust?"

"He promised us power. One more question, Jack."

Jack fisted the grass angrily. This jerk was giving him paper-thin answers and he knew it. This couldn't only be because of power. In a children's story, maybe, but there had to be a deeper meaning behind all of this.

"I'm waiting," Maro drawled.

_…Oh. I got it!_

"What was happening to you and your people before Faust came along?"

Maro's face went blank. "I don't understand."

"Did something happen to you guys? Were you attacked and defeated? Felt like you couldn't defend yourself?"

"What do you—"

"Maybe you saw someone being hurt and felt like you weren't powerful enough to do anything about it?"

"You don't—"

"Or maybe it's something that's been building up for years, decades or centuries even, and you just got tired and you finally—"

"The humans," Maro whispered harshly, and Jack immediately leaned forward to listen. "They just kept coming and branching out, and things were fine between us, really. We didn't bother them, but they kept taking our homes and killing _us_. And we could defend ourselves for a while, but they just kept finding ways to kill and hurt…we don't have any magic that can defend, tengu just don't have magic."

Jack reached out and brushed Maro's shoulder, and the tengu seized his hand, not threateningly, but rather desperately. Jack was pretty sure he had just triggered something painful and had an emotional spirit now. Great.

"So why now?" he pressed gently.

"Lots of us," Maro murmured, voice cracking, body trembling, "got pushed out a while ago. They burned down our forest to make room for their homes. We retreated to the mountains, but they grow more crowded each year. We don't want to leave our homeland, but…" He looked into Jack's eyes and something in his own gaze calmed. "We cannot defend ourselves against the weapons the humans posses anymore. Bullets tear through us mercilessly. We need something stronger. We need magic. We know Pitch Black has things in his possession that could easily…well, Faust came along and said if we helped him, he'd share the power once he got it under control."

Jack slowly removed his hand from Maro's touch, and Maro withdrew as though he was annoyed he had gotten caught up in his own emotions. A surprisingly companionable silence stretched between them, and Jack said at length, "Did you become the leader of the tengu helping Faust? Were you the one to originally strike the deal?"

"I started in this alone," Maro admitted, "but somehow word got out about what I was doing, and the rest just rallied behind me." He smiled to himself. "They know my name now. Never listened to me when they met to decide how they were going to make do with all the new arrivals at the mountain, but now they listen." He seemed to remember something. "Until the North Pole."

Jack winced as those eyes shifted dangerously. "Look, I'm sorry about that, but I can't do anything about it. Maybe it's time for you guys to move out from your homeland. There's still plenty of space in the world. Where do you live?"

"Japan."

"No kidding? You guys must be all about ancestry."

"I suppose," Maro laughed. The sound was very nice.

"Maybe it's time to branch out."

"You don't know what it's like, do you. To have a home to settle down in."

"No, sorry. I'm a drifter."

"Is it fun?"

"Duh! I get to see the world." He threw his hands up in the air. "It's my oyster!" He was glad that Maro laughed again. "I mean, there's a place I keep coming back to. In fact, it's just through these woods. Want me to show you?"

And he found himself walking side by side with Maro the tengu all the way to his pond, which was completely unfrozen. The clouds had cleared, the hot sunlight making everything sticky and humid, but Jack just lowered his core temperature a little further and felt just fine. "Sorry it's in this bad state. I usually have everything in ice, but it's summer and my staff is…you know."

Maro surveyed the enclosure scornfully. "You call this a home?"

"Hey, I'm trying to make a point! I mean, yes, it's home, but I find the courage to call other places my home too. I don't always stay here. Home is where you make it."

Maro stared unblinkingly at the true blue surface of the water. Then he unfurled his wings and flapped them to get them warmed up. "A truly interesting talk, Jack Frost. I'll take my leave."

"You'll think about what I said?"

"Perhaps. I'll let you live today."

"Like you could kill me."

"We'll see about that, kid." He paused. "You said you understood what it was like to be disregarded. Elaborate."

Jack shrugged. "What's to say? At strategy meetings I'm shut down by royalty. Pitch Black thinks I'm just something to toy with. Even you guys don't think I'm important enough to have someone watch my every move like the other Guardians."

Maro gave him a skeptical look. "Would you like me to have a tail put on you?"

"Noooo," Jack replied. "I'm good. I'm not even invited to the meetings anymore, you know. I did something bad to piss Pitch off."

"Perhaps you would be more welcome in our ranks," Maro suggested, almost kindly.

"Thanks, but your ultimate goal is to make a move against the humans. I kinda like humans, and I protect the kids, so I can't help you."

Maro shrugged and held out a hand. Jack took it and they shook, but Maro's talons were suddenly at his neck, not pressing hard enough to be considered threatening, but real enough to be a reminder. "The next time we meet, I'll probably rip your heart out. But thanks for the chat, runt."

And then he kissed Jack.

Jack squawked funnily and flailed his arms, but Maro was holding his chin there until he finished. Jack scrambled back, stumbling into the water. "What the hell!"

The tengu was already in the air. "You should be careful, Jack. You'll attract the attention of people you shouldn't attract if you act like that."

"Like what?" Jack cried in exasperation.

Something softened for a split second in Maro's gaze before it gave way to cold amusement. "Yourself."

Jack's mouth formed a confused "o", but he coughed and waved at the departing spirit. "Right, sure, whatever. Uh, have fun? Don't hurt people. And don't put a tail on me. Okay, thanks!"

He dipped his hand in the water and splashed it over his lips, erasing the taste of Maro the tengu from his mouth. What would Pitch think if—

_Aw, shit._

There, on the ridge.

Dear God, could he not catch a break today?

The Nightmare King had a mask of stone on, and Jack felt everything in him sink because there was no way he'd ever have a chance with him now. Pitch held his gaze for a second more before turning slowly and disappearing.

Jack didn't call out. Didn't chase after him. He just stood in the water and prayed for a second death, not for the first or last time.

* * *

Life was screwing with him. Seriously, this was ridiculous. He was trying to get in the Globe Room, and he was barred by stupid Phil and his stupid yeti security detail, who were no more sympathetic to his pleas as they were during his time before becoming a Guardian.

"I'm a part of this team, and I have a right to be in there!"

He knew Phil was smiling beneath all that fir, and that only made him fume.

"Dammit, Phil! I just want to talk to _someone_! Can you at least tell North that I'm here?"

The giant doors suddenly creaked open and someone stepped out. Jack cried Pyotr's name with all the relief in the world and tried not to throw himself at him. After all, they had only met for less than ten minutes in the past. "Oh my _God_, would you _please_ tell them to step aside?"

Pyotr smiled and placed his hand on Jack's shoulder, leading him for a turn about the Workshop. "Jack, I think it's best if you go."

Jack recoiled from his touch completely and stared up at this great spirit whom he had thought he would get along with swimmingly. His expectations had been completely askew, obviously, especially since he hadn't taken the time to know him. "And why would I go?"

Pyotr tried to sound appeasing. "I've been told you don't really pay much attention to these meetings, and you're bored easily. You retain the title of the Guardian of Fun, no? I don't think someone who is usually so active should be stuck in a boring old strategy meeting."

Jack couldn't stop shaking his head. "No, no, this is about Pitch, isn't it? Everything's about Pitch now! I'm as much involved with this thing as everyone else in that room, so what right do they have to kick me out because one idiot is sulking because I hurt his feelings? No one wants to know what he did to me!"

"Did he do something?" Pyotr asked sharply.

Jack quieted. "No." When Pyotr's worried frown persisted, he sighed and forced himself to relax. "He didn't do anything. It was…my fault, actually, and I'm not just saying that. Look, can I go in or not?"

Pyotr's lips made a thin line and he shook his head. "Pitch is our greatest ally. We need him. If you're here, he won't be."

Jack gritted his teeth. "Fine."

Pyotr stopped him before he floated up too high. His touch was cold on Jack's wrist, and it was comfortable. He had never felt the touch of someone with skin like his. He sank until his feet touched the floorboards again and he was looking into Pyotr's wise, blue eyes.

Pyotr smiled. "Perhaps you two should talk."

"I tried to as soon as I came to my senses. He didn't want to listen."

"The injustice was still fresh then. But it has been a while now, hasn't it? Maybe now he'll listen."

"Can't even get him to stay in the same room as me. How am I supposed to apologize properly if he won't stay to listen?"

The look passing over Pyotr's face was devious and mischievous. "Find a way to _make_ him stay."

* * *

The Nightmare bucked furiously and whinnied when Jack landed a little too hard on her back. "Whoa, wait! Shhh, someone'll hear!"

He pressed his cold hands to her neck and let her feel him, whispered his name in her ear until she snorted and alighted on a rooftop. Jack patted her gratefully. "Good girl. Is Pitch going to be here soon?"

Onyx bobbed her head, pawing the shingles.

"Okay, good. Does he usually come to you?" Another bob. "Perfect. Now, I need you to listen to me. I need to talk to Pitch, so I need you to come with me, okay? I'm going to go to sleep, and you're going to give me a nightmare." Those ears went back on her head in hesitation. "Please, it'll be fine. Don't worry about freaking me out. I can handle it. I just need to talk to him, okay?"

Onyx snorted once in agreement, but it sounded to Jack like she wasn't happy at all.

* * *

He hadn't dreamed like this in a while.

Before he had become a Guardian, he had had nightmares before. Dreams about never being seen by children, dreams about being shunned by his own kind, dreams about drowning. He hadn't understood the drowning dreams until after he had gotten his memories back.

Knowing why he was drowning now…made it a little less scary.

He was gasping for air that wasn't there; water flooded his lungs, his body seized up, but it didn't hurt, and he wasn't too scared because he knew that somewhere on the surface was a little girl who was safe. She was most likely crying for him, calling his name as she usually did, but she was safe, and that was all that mattered to him.

The fear slipped away and Jack floated in the water of his dream, staring up at the ice. He could see the blurred glow of the moon just beyond the layer of cold, and it was comforting this time. This was how the nightmare always went, though he usually felt a little more fear.

A dark shadow off to his right caught his eye. It was moving swiftly over the ice, and he could tell it was a person, but the footsteps were light and frantic, moving first in one direction, then the other, as though the person were looking for someone.

This was not how the nightmare usually went.

Jack opened his mouth, but his shout was watery and thick in his ears.

The shadow stopped, blocking out half of the moon's glow, and then a fist suddenly punched down through the ice and an ashy hand stretched downward. Miraculously, Jack found the strength to move, and he swam upwards, reaching out.

The touch was so _warm_, and he was being dragged up until he broke the surface of the water and met golden eyes. He couldn't stare very long because he had to duck his head and cough up copious amounts of water, but when he was sure his lungs were empty, he shivered and pressed close to the lean body which cradled him gently.

"Stay," Jack breathed.

"Always," a voice of velvet whispered back.

But it was too good to be true. An earsplitting crack shook the air and the ice, and the shadow was ripped away from Jack, dragged down into the water. Jack shrieked and grabbed that warm hand as tightly as possible, dug his nails in until they left red scores on the grey wrist, and he thought he could pull his savior back up.

For a minute, he was relieved to see golden eyes emerge, blinking water away, and they locked onto Jack and were filled with such _hope_—

As the nightmare would have it, Jack lost his grip.

His light, his warmth, his hope – it disappeared beneath the dark water, and Jack tried to dive in to save the one thing in this dream that mattered, but ice had formed over the breakage and he couldn't break through. He slammed his fists onto the ice over and over again, screaming for his life to be given back to him, crying for—

Silence. Then, a smooth voice: "What a _sight_."

Jack sniffled pathetically, but honestly, his dignity was shot if he was this desperate. He searched for the words he had wanted to say, but his mouth gaped, and he felt tears on his cheeks as he stared down at the place where his shadow had disappeared. It wasn't real, he knew, because he felt the Nightmare King's presence at his back.

He settled on replying, "You think?"

"You wanted my attention, Jack. Here I am."

Jack sat down on the ice and crossed his legs. It felt like the world was swimming and stable at the same time. "I want to apologize."

"And I told you I did not accept that. Though I'm impressed you lured me here through Onyx."

Jack managed a wet smile. "I'm clever like that." The ice beneath him morphed into cool, black stone. He looked around and saw that it was Pitch's lair. "Why are you taking over my dream?"

"I'm not doing any of this, Jack." Pitch was no longer behind him. Probably lurking in the shadows. "This is all your doing."

Yeah, he was probably right. Jack's eyes hunted in the darkness until he found gold. "Let me see you. Please?"

Pitch stepped forward into a soft beam of light emitted from one of the portals. He looked tall, powerful, and unforgiving. Jack's heart wavered, but he managed, "I'm sorry."

Pitch shook his head. "That's not good enough."

"I know." Jack forced himself to his feet and walked over, extending a hand and brushing it against Pitch's sleeve.

Pitch pulled away from the touch. "What were you doing with that damn crow?"

Jack remembered unhappily that Pitch had seen _that_ encounter. "We were just talking."

"I guess you don't feel what you say for me, if you were throwing yourself at him."

Hot anger flashed across Jack's mind. "He did that out of the blue! That had nothing to do with me. I'm not some slut, Pitch; you have no right to accuse me. And why the hell should you care anyway, since you _clearly_ think I'm stupid for feeling what I feel for you?"

Pitch waved a hand. "Enough. You were apologizing, I believe."

Jack curbed his rage, humbling himself. "I am sorry. I got carried away."

Pitch looked down his nose at him; it was a very haughty look, elegant and arrogant and wise all at once. "Do you understand what you did?"

"I poked my nose into your business, and I shouldn't have."

"But _why_ did you do it?"

Jack looked away, anger stirring. "You know why."

"I want you to say it."

Jack reached out. Pitch allowed him to brush his wrist. "I…went into that house because I was mad at you."

"For?"

He nearly choked on the words. "Not loving me."

"And why would that make you angry?"

"Because I…started loving you."

"Past tense?" Pitch said cruelly. Jack shook his head. "Alright, then. What if I said you had to do something for me, then? Something physical?"

Jack didn't know where the flash of courage came from, but he reached up and dragged Pitch's head down for a kiss. The shade was compliant. Jack nipped Pitch's bottom lip harshly, but licked it soothingly when he tasted blood. Pitch let him, and even pushed back and moved his mouth, but he refused to step closer. Jack growled in frustration and did it for him, winding his arms around Pitch's waist and pulling him flush against him.

"Interesting," Pitch breathed when the frost spirit broke away for air.

"Shut up," Jack hissed, kissing him again. He pushed Pitch backwards until he was pressed against a column.

Something was up with Jack's head. It felt light and weird, and his lips were buzzing as he abandoned Pitch's mouth and slid down until he was on his knees, pushing Pitch's robe aside. He tongued the bulge he found, but he didn't feel victorious when Pitch's breath hitched. What was he doing? He didn't mind how this was turning out, but it sure wasn't going in the direction he really wanted it to go in.

"You know," Pitch commented, voice unusually tight, "you're only proving to me that you'd make a fantastic whore."

Jack paused, pulling his mouth away from the fabric. "As long as it's working."

"Is this really what you want?"

Jack slowly sat back on his heels. "I…can live with it."

"Really?"

"I'm not _whoring_ myself out to you. I just want to be near you."

Pitch shook his head. "If it continues like this, you're going to want more. No, don't you dare deny it. Look me in the eye and tell me you can handle this being only physical."

Jack looked, and found that he couldn't. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. "Fine. You're right. But if you won't…love me, at least let me in. I want to know about your past, since everyone seems so insistent on keeping it a secret."

"Why would I tell you?"

_He doesn't love you. Why should he tell you?_

Jack suddenly felt very weary. His muscles went slack and he bowed his head. "I want to see that house, Pitch."

"You set foot in there, and I'll cut your throat."

"No, you won't," Jack replied. "I'm going to see that house."

"_Jack_." Pitch allowed a pleading warmth to seep into his tone. Jack flinched. "If you love me—"

Jack gasped sharply, and his eyes smarted with tears. A hand touched his shoulder, and he slapped it away.

"Don't you _dare!_"

His scream echoed about the cavern; he didn't want Pitch here in his head anymore. He swallowed and said thickly, "I'm going to that house tomorrow, and I'm going to fight until you let me in."

He didn't only mean the house.

Pitch crouched down and carefully slid his hand along Jack's cheek, raising his head. Jack kept his eyes closed.

"Jack. Stay away." The kiss Pitch bestowed upon him was lighter than the sweetest breeze.

Jack smiled bitterly against his lips. "Make me."

* * *

He was alone when he woke up. He stretched and let his head flop back against the trunk. The midnight breeze was cool against his face, and he toed the grass with his bare feet and let his eyes fall closed again.

Jack didn't flinch when lips suddenly brushed his neck. He leaned into the warmth and heard Pitch whisper, "I'll be waiting."

Elation spread through him, and he opened his eyes.

Alone again. He sighed; he should have expected as much. But something was pressing into his palm. He looked down and grinned as the moonlight struck his returned staff.

* * *

**Author's Note:** In answer to your question, MoonKent, I'm not sure how long this will be. I don't think it'll hit 20 chapters. Then again, I'm already considering a sequel, because...well, yeah, you'll hear more about that near the end. For now, stew in Jack and Pitch's screwed up love.


	13. Return and Fall

**Return and Fall**

Jack was hesitant to let his feet touch the dirt trail leading up to the front porch. Pitch _had_ threatened to cut his throat before changing his mind.

After a moment of quiet reflection, he let himself sink. When he checked to make sure he hadn't suffered any bodily harm, he strode up the stairs and entered without knocking. The foyer was unchanged, and he could see the footprints where he had stood. Evidence of his past presence was everywhere.

He heard a creak above him and immediately flew up to the attic door. The ladder hadn't come down last time he had been here, and it still stayed where it was. He jiggled it. Stuck. With a sigh, he floated up and closed the door behind him.

"I see you've familiarized yourself with my house."

Jack jumped, holding his staff out in front of him. It felt good to have the conduit in his hands; its blue glow was a comfort to him. Pitch stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight streaming through the broken shutters. Jack's breath caught. With the golden light surrounding Pitch, he looked larger than life, no longer a shade, but something greater.

Pitch frowned. "What are you gawking at?"

Jack coughed and shook his head. What was with him imagining all this crazy crap in this house? "Sorry." He walked around the attic, looking innocently at all the fluttering sheets. "What's under all of this?"

"You already know. That's not funny."

Jack winced. "Right. Okay."

Pitch watched him circle the room once more and at last sighed, "Ask your questions."

Jack nodded and started pulling cloth. Soon, the dusty floorboards were littered with white sheets. He opened a trunk and pulled out a rolled up rug, showing it to Pitch. "Did you used to have them lying around the house?"

Pitch nodded. "When I first built this place, that particular one lay at the front door."

Jack's silver eyebrows shot up. "You built this house?"

"Yes, though I modernized parts of it as the centuries passed. It didn't always look like this."

"So all of these rugs were everywhere?"

"At one time or another, yes."

Jack opened another chest, one with books. He grabbed one, but upon seeing Pitch wince at his indelicacy, carefully opened the cover, revealing lines of a script he had never seen in his life. "What's this? What language?"

Pitch closed his eyes, as though he were remembering something. He tilted his head back; a soft, almost _fond_ look stole across his face. "It is written in the stars."

"What?"

Pitch snapped out of his reverie and cleared his throat. "The language of the stars."

Jack made a soft "oh" and scrutinized the elegant script. "And how do you know this language?"

"You are allowed to ask questions about the house, not of my past."

"Fine, geez." Jack replaced the book and moved onto the next trunk, muttering, "Limiting my questions, just like Maro."

"Pardon?" Pitch asked sharply.

"Nothing," Jack replied, trying not to fling open the lid. Ah, the tapestries. He unfolded a bit of the one on top and showed Pitch the glorious pictures stitched into the cloth. "What's it about?"

"Vague, Jack. Very vague."

"What's the story about?"

"There's no story to tell," Pitch spat. "They're just pictures. Move on."

Jack scowled and did as he was told. The next trunk held the clothes. He held up a light shirt, watching it sway in the breeze. "Did you used to wear these?"

"Yes, but it's been a great number of centuries since."

Jack looked between the shirt and Pitch, and asked shyly, "Would you try it on?"

Pitch actually considered it, but Jack wasn't surprised when he shook his head. "No, not…not now, at least."

Jack liked this. Something about this house made everything different. Pitch had been an absolute demon when he had discovered Jack in here without permission, but now that they were both here, everything changed. "Not now? Okay, then later." He moved onto the next trunk and stared at the broken locks. "Oh, yeah."

Pitch came over and bent down for a look, then cuffed Jack over the head. "I ought to gut you, Frost!"

"Ow, hey, stop! When I apologized, I was apologizing for everything I'd done while I was here, this included. Plus, I don't really see why you'd need to lock these things up since no one comes here." He opened the lids of the two trunks he had broken into and showed Pitch.

A strange light drifted into Pitch's eyes, and Jack watched with fascination as he reached out as though in a daze and brushed it over the sheath of a dagger. Jack captured his hand and guided it over to the other trunk and set it on the bow. Pitch curled his fingers around the wood and picked it up. Jack watched with stirring anticipation as he held it out in front of him, and his heart leapt when Pitch drew the string taught.

He was struck by the memory of the black sand arrow Pitch had fired at Sandy with expert marksmanship, and his expression soured. "Guess I know where you learned how to shoot."

Pitch looked down at him and understood what he meant, and he let the string fall back to its place. "You don't know anything."

Jack shrugged. "Why is the quiver empty?"

Pitch replaced the bow in its chest. "I think we're done here." He sank into the shadows even as Jack cried out in frustration.

"You're kidding! I just wanted some answers, and you've hardly told me anything!" He went out the trapdoor and flew up and down the hallway. "Pitch?" He heard movement in the master bedroom and entered.

Pitch was staring at the open wardrobe. Jack stood by him and looked on the suit of armor with as much admiration as he had the first time. "What were you?"

"Specify," Pitch demanded faintly.

"What were you like when you wore that armor?"

"What makes you think I wore that?"

Jack made a harsh noise in the back of his throat. "Please don't treat me like I'm an idiot. I may have done some stupid stuff—"

"Damn right," Pitch growled.

"—but that doesn't _make_ me stupid. I'm just curious is all."

"Too curious," Pitch agreed, but he knelt and pulled open the drawer on the bottom of the wardrobe that Jack had missed the first time around. Lying in the bottom, swathed in gentle cloths, was a sheathed sword. Jack's heartbeat quickened as Pitch picked it up and placed it on his knees, unsheathing it halfway. The golden blade positively _gleamed_, and it wasn't even being struck by sunlight. Jack leaned against Pitch's body, never mind what he thought, and sighed, "I wish I had known you back then."

Pitch stiffened. "Perhaps that would have been better."

Jack realized what Pitch thought he had been implying, and he clutched his arm. "Wait, that's not what I meant. I don't mind how you are now."

A sharp laugh. "A lie if I ever heard one."

"Okay, some of the stuff you do bothers me, but just remember that I…got to know you like this, and I _like_ this, so it's okay." Pitch sheathed the sword and replaced it, shutting the drawer and rising, Jack still holding on. "Can you…try this on, then?"

"The armor?"

Jack nodded.

"No."

"No?" Alright, maybe if he tried a different tactic. His hand snaked down and he tangled their fingers together. Pitch allowed it, and Jack felt him relax as he iced his fingers over. "Could I make it worth your while?"

"There you go again," Pitch said even as Jack reached up to brush his face. "Trying to seduce me. Is that all you can do?"

"Seduction is only half of what I can do," Jack said cheekily, and Pitch rolled his eyes.

"I'd rather you treat your body with a little more respect."

"I'm not a whore," Jack hissed, pushing more ice than usual onto Pitch's hand.

"Then stop acting like one."

"It's not whoring if…" Jack paused and stepped away, suddenly remembering something. "Know what? Never mind. Sorry." He ignored Pitch's questioning look as he flew out the French doors and took to the sky. When he was miles away from the house, he pulled the stolen locket out from his pocket and ran his thumb over it. He could open it now, and Pitch would never know.

Jack shoved the charm back in his pocket.

* * *

Pitch wasn't at the meeting the next day, so Jack was allowed in. He sat next to Pyotr and latched onto his every word when he spoke; he paid close attention to everything that was said around the table, even to Fuinor. He kept his mouth shut, of course, because he didn't know the first thing about strategy and he did _not_ want to make a fool of himself.

When the meeting was over and Fuinor and Admon had retreated to the village to meet with their troops, Jack took a walk with Pyotr outside.

"Alright, I admit it! That was super boring."

Pyotr laughed. "I warned you." He placed a concerned hand on Jack's shoulder. "How did your confrontation go?"

"Eh, could have gone better. I _think_ he's forgiven me, but I can't really be sure. When I left, it was kinda unclear."

"Don't worry. I'm sure it will work out." Pyotr raised a hand and flicked his wrist. A playful wind stirred up and whisked Jack up in the air. Jack laughed with childish glee as he was carried by a wind not under his influence for once, but at the command of another like him, a true frost spirit.

Pyotr joined him in the sky, Jack took control of his own wind, and together they flew over the compound, past the village, on a sky voyage across the vast Pole. They called up blizzards, sent powerful winds sweeping the tundra, took freefalls and picked themselves up again at the last second. They followed the air currents, not saying a word to one another, but rather getting to know one another through their flight, showing one another their own tricks of the trade, smiling, laughing. Jack really did forget for the moment that they were in the middle of the war and that the man he had started to love was being stubborn elsewhere.

When they touched down on the roof of the Workshop, windblown and giddy from the joy of flight, Jack felt like he had learned more about Pyotr than he ever could have by sitting down and having a conversation. They slipped into the Globe Room through the open panel in the roof.

"That was awesome," Jack said with bounding excitement as their feet hit the hardwood floor.

"Indeed," Pyotr agreed. "It is sometimes good to get away from the business and have a little fun."

Jack stopped walking and asked, "Do you think, when this is over, we could do it again sometime before you go?" At Pyotr's questioning look, he continued, "It's just that I've never seen someone like me before, and I…I just want to remember before you disappear on me."

"Jack," Pyotr said, "I was under the impression that you might want to come _with_ me. Meet your own kind."

The words rang in Jack's ears like sweet bells, but before he had the chance to respond – _yes, yes, _hell_ yes_ – there was a loud bang and a creaking groan that shook the room and sent the elves scrambling and the yetis to their defensive stations.

Darkness seeped in through the opening in the roof, and the room was flooded by Fearlings and Nightmare Men. The yetis batted them away when they got too close, but it didn't seem like they were attacking – yet. North barged in and shook his fist at the ceiling. "Pitch! What are you doing?"

"Stay out of this, North," a booming voice snarled from all about. "Give me the boy, and I'll go."

"Are you mad?" North spat furiously. "What right do you have to barge into my home and—" His words fell short as his eyes locked on the open skylight. Jack followed his gaze, and what he saw coming down made his heart stutter with both fear and awe.

Onyx galloped gracefully towards them, bearing her rider with the dignity of a war horse. Pitch Black, fully clad in his ancient armor, sat ramrod straight on her back, head held high and proud. It was such a sight to behold, and Jack wanted to cheer, for the man looked like he belonged in that armor, like he belonged to a position of _power_.

But Jack felt fear because the golden spirals and patterns he had so admired on that armor were covered in swarthy black so that he could hardly see them at all. And Pitch did not have that glorious gold broadsword strapped at his waist, but instead carried his scythe, and for all Jack knew, he could have been counted as one of the Four Horsemen the humans liked to go on about.

Onyx cantered onto the floor, snorting and stamping angrily, clearly affected by the mood her master was in.

The fury had drained from North's face and had been replaced by something akin to wonder. "It…has been so long."

"Not long enough," the Nightmare King drawled, fixing his gaze on Jack, who flinched. There was _hatred_ in that stare, and it pierced him to the core. "I'm here for Frost."

Pyotr stepped protectively in front of Jack, but Pitch sneered, "My anger is justified, you dog. That whelp stole something of mine, and I want it back."

The other Guardians burst in; Tooth's swords gleamed, Sandy's dream sand flared menacingly, and Bunny's boomerangs were cocked and ready. The Pooka clearly wasn't fazed by the shade's new state of dress like the others were. "You little wanker, bringin' darkness in here! What's the big idea?"

"I'll not repeat myself." Pitch continued to stare at Jack. "Return it to me."

Jack knew exactly what he was talking about and took a step back as Tooth said shrilly, "Just what right do you have to accuse him? Jack would never—"

"No," Jack said quickly when he saw Pitch half-rise from Onyx's back dangerously. "He's right, I took something of his." He felt their shock more than saw it, and said to Pitch, "I don't have it here, though. It's hidden. I'll take you to it."

Bunny grabbed his arm as he started to walk past. "What're you talking about, mate? You stole something from _him_? What was it?"

Jack shook his head. "It's none of your business, just like it was none of mine. Please."

The Pooka's pink nose twitched irritably, but he murmured, "Just give a shout, and I'll drop 'im for ya, I promise."

Jack patted his furry shoulder and continued out the door. He heard Pitch dismount and follow. He led the Boogeyman to the room of maps and globes North kept for navigation. The door shut with a _click_ and Jack felt his throat close up suddenly, because Pitch was now exuding a black aura that slinked into every crevice and permeated Jack's skin threateningly.

"Is it in here?" Pitch growled, moving in close behind him but not touching him.

Jack shook his head. "I didn't want the others to see." He pulled the locket from his pocket. Pitch made no move to snatch it, and instead held out a steady hand. Jack turned and placed it in his palm, watching the charm disappear beneath grey fingers.

"I'm—"

"Save your breath. I am _done_ with you."

"Wait," Jack pleaded weakly. His knees were trembling, about to give out. "At least show me what's inside."

"You have no right to make that request," Pitch said venomously. "I'll not allow you to lay eyes on its contents twice."

Shit, his vision was blurring. "No, no, I swear, I never looked."

"Liar."

Jack dropped his staff; it hit the floor with a clatter as he spread his arms. His tears were spilling over. This business was seriously screwing with his emotions. "I swear. Please, _please_."

Pitch eyed him with those eyes slivered in hate, then stored the locket in his inner breast pocket before stepping close, hands clasped behind his back. Jack wanted to sob. Pitch didn't even want to _touch_ him anymore.

The shade leaned in, warm breath dancing on the nape of Jack's neck, and didn't move for a minute. Jack kept his eyes firmly fixed on the door beyond. Then, in a miraculous moment that set his frosty heart pounding and his head spinning, Pitch's hands loosened and came around to lightly touch Jack's waist. His lips connected with cold skin, and Jack dropped his head into his shoulder, at last letting loose that singular sob of relief. Strong arms circled him with more confidence and squeezed softly.

Things were far from fixed, but this was a chance to make them better.

"Why didn't you look?" Pitch murmured. Then, answering his own question, he said, "I'll assume that your heart was overwhelmed with guilt."

"Close enough," Jack sighed, just glad to be _near_ him. "I flew over the house the other day and thought I could put it back, but I didn't know if you were there. Didn't want to get caught."

Pitch stepped back and Jack silently mourned the loss of contact. "Are you going to continue this childishness?"

Jack used his toes to drag his staff towards him over the floor, but made no move to pick it up. "I'll stop. I get that you'll never…"

"Yet you insist—"

"Then let me indulge too," Jack interrupted. "If – if you're going to indulge yourself with my…body, then I can do it with all of you. We both get something out of it – no, it's _not_ whoring," he insisted when Pitch looked at him funnily. "Can you just let me have this?"

Pitch sighed and sank into a chair with poise. Jack liked that about him; he always made everything he did look effortless. "It's detrimental to your mental state."

"Says you. Why should you care anyway?" Spite worked its way into Jack's voice, completely uninvited. "You don't care about anyone, so why should you be warning me off from this?"

Pitch rested his head on his fist, the corners of his mouth turned up smugly. "You think I want you fighting by my side when you're emotionally compromised? I care for my safety, thank you very much."

Jack knelt in front of him and slid his cool hands along the black armor covering Pitch's thighs. The man gave him a dangerous look, but Jack shook his head. "I just want to…" He leaned up, and Pitch leaned down, and it had been _so long_ since they had kissed without being very angry at each other, and it felt wonderful.

"You're awful," Pitch said, dropping to his knees to pull Jack closer. He ran his tongue across those cold lips and, when Jack parted them, licked his way into his mouth. Strong hands gripped Jack's waist and lowered him onto his back on the floor, and Pitch settled himself on top of him, moving down to his neck.

Pitch's weight was comfortable and warm, and Jack thought he might sleep like that if it weren't for the wonderful things that mouth was doing to his neck. He reached down without thinking and tried to take Pitch's hands, but apparently the Nightmare King was going to insist on the "no relationship" intimacy by capturing Jack's slender wrists in one hand and forcing them above his head.

"You suck," Jack said.

Pitch pulled back to grace him with a positively devilish smirk. "Don't think I've done that yet."

"Soon?" Jack asked, smiling. The banter felt familiar.

Whatever snarky answer Pitch had been going to say curled up and died when the door swung open and Tooth appeared in their vision. She shrieked loudly and darted away, and Pitch bolted up, dragging Jack with him. "Hit me!"

"What?"

"Hit me," Pitch repeated harshly, snatching up Jack's staff and shoving it into his pale hands.

Jack shook his head, hearing Tooth's distant calls and pounding footsteps. Pitch snarled and backhanded Jack without warning. The tough material of his wrist guard caught Jack's skin, and pain bloomed in his cheek. Jack stumbled back, clutching his face, staring at the man with sad confusion. The Guardians suddenly filled the doorway, and Bunny took one look at Jack's bloody fingers before stomping forward, ears flat against his skull, green eyes wide.

"You little—"

North reached out and seized Bunny before he could take a swing at Pitch, but he also glared at the shade. "What is happening here? Tooth said you were having Jack on the floor, holding him down?"

"You're a sick f—"

"Jack, are you okay?" Tooth cut off Bunny's furious comment.

Jack finally understood why Pitch had wanted him to hit him; the cut on his cheek suddenly stung a little less with betrayal. "It was my fault, I promise." This was said more to Bunny, because he looked like all he wanted to do was knock Pitch's lights out and give Jack a hug. Which was kind of weird. "I took something from him and…may have told him of some other stuff I did."

Sandy threw up a few symbols and Jack nodded solemnly. "I gave back what I took. It's okay now."

"I don't like this," Bunny said to his friends. "These two shouldn't be hanging out anymore. The _only_ reason Pitch is here is for business, and just because Jack took somethin' of yours doesn't give you the right to hit 'im, ya ruddy—"

"Well, if you knew what he has done to spite me, you'd see that I was justified," Pitch interrupted smoothly. Truth rang clearly behind his words, though Jack was the only one who heard it. Bunny didn't look the least convinced.

North clapped his hands commandingly. "Okay. Is enough! Both of you, out of my home. Go talk elsewhere. Don't come back until you have the sorting of things done."

Sandy bobbed his golden head in vigorous agreement.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me!" Bunny shouted, waving his paws. "The _last_ thing Jack needs is to be left alone in the same room as him." Sandy's golden flaring of dream sand was an emphatic agreement.

"No," North growled. "We will soon be fighting and we need everyone to be right with each other. Our safety is compromised if emotions are unstable." He ushered them out and closed the door on the pair.

After an awkward silence, Pitch murmured, "Told you."

"Shut up."

"Shall we go and start sorting, then?" Pitch led him to the portal connecting the Workshop with the lair. When they stepped into Pitch's cool home, the floor dropped out from under Jack so that he found himself lying on the carpeted floor of the sitting room, clutching his staff and stomach.

"I could have flown down," he groaned, sitting down and flopping onto his back. "No guests today?"

"No one will be visiting today," Pitch said, appearing by him and crouching down. He looked at Jack with half-lidded eyes and purred, "Shall we finish what we started?"

Jack reached up and pulled him towards him, connecting their lips with a soft sigh. After a few seconds of having his mouth ravished, he broke for air and said, "D'you think Tooth knows what we were really doing?"

Pitch frowned. "No. She thinks we were fighting." He sounded unsure though, and Jack felt unsure.

"I don't know. I wasn't really watching her. I was keeping an eye on Bunny."

Pitch fixed his eyes on Jack's cheek, and licked a hot stripe across the cut. It stung a bit, but Pitch repeated the action and the pain dulled, the cut healing over. "Next time I tell you to hit me…"

Jack laughed. "I still don't think I'd do it."

The sultry chuckle that bubbled up in Pitch's throat made Jack arch. A warm thigh forced its way between his legs, and he rutted against it, the hard material of Pitch's armor satisfying his need for friction. He suddenly stopped and sat up, nearly knocking heads with the man. Pitch scowled, but allowed himself to be tugged to the armchair. He sat, and Jack took to his lap.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Jack said, running his fingers down the front of Pitch's armor. He pulled his mind away from his half-aroused state in favor of his curiosity. "I just wanted to know why you were wearing this. You wouldn't have known the locket was missing otherwise."

Pitch sank into the cushioning, closing his eyes, and Jack curled up against him, pleased when warm arms slowly wrapped around him. "You have a nasty habit of drudging up old memories, Jack Frost. Ones I'd rather not speak of."

Jack closed his eyes too. "Anything I can do to make you talk?" As an afterthought, he added, "Anything non-physical? Since you seem so insistent that I'm a whore."

The arms tightened almost comfortingly. "A question for a question, then."

"I can do that. Why are you wearing this?"

"Your insistent nagging that I try something on rang in my ears long after you'd left. Why did you kiss that stupid bird?"

Jack grimaced. "He kissed me. I don't even know why he'd do that."

"I can think of a few reasons," Pitch grumbled, burying his nose in Jack's hair. "Why were you even talking to him?"

"Uh-uh, it's my turn. Who were you, when you wore this armor all that time ago?"

Pitch remained silent, and when Jack looked up, he saw the man staring at the warm flames of the fireplace. Jack knew he felt uncomfortable, so he relented. _Only for you, you jerk._

"Fine. What kind of armor is this?"

Pitch stirred from his silence. "It's similar to what the humans call laminar armor. It's made of metal strips."

"Feels pretty flexible for metal." Jack traced his fingers over the black spiraling patterns.

Pitch retracted his shadows and let the gold gleam for Jack. "Why were you with that tengu?"

"He attacked me," Jack said simply. "I didn't have my staff, but I managed." He felt Pitch stiffen, so he stroked his arm reassuringly. "I'm fine. I can work my magic without my staff."

"I left you defenseless."

"I gave it to you for a reason. And that was because I went through your stuff. It's my fault. And I'm still here, so it's fine. Let's not make a big deal of it."

"Fine." Pitch didn't sound fine. "Your question?"

"You know, seeing how I can't really ask you any questions that don't involve your past, which you're obviously not ready to talk about, I'm going to let you ask."

"If that's what you want," Pitch replied eagerly, clearly not thinking of refusing the generous offer. "What did that damn thing want with you? You certainly weren't fighting when I saw you."

"He's got a name, you know." Pitch groaned. "It's Maro. And after I showed him who's boss – don't laugh! I really did! I beat him, and then we started talking. He confessed that the tengu are working with Faust, but that's not enough evidence unless he comes forward to all of us and admits it. It was a good experience. I think he could even be turned to our side."

"Tell me you're not thinking of getting close to him."

"No, but now that you mention it—"

"I forbid it."

Jack sat up and looked at him. "Are you _kidding_? You don't own me. And I really do think that if I could just talk to him a bit more, I can convince him to come forward."

Pitch did not relent. "Jack, just as you would be trying to use him if you met again, he would try to use you. You are the only one they know nothing about, Jack. Because you have always been a minor player in this fight."

"Way to remind me," Jack said glumly.

Pitch cupped his face gently and kissed him. It was surprising, but Jack wasn't one to complain. "You are minor, but you are strong, Jack. They don't know that."

"You'd think they would, since I defeated you."

"Cheeky," Pitch said dryly. "Be serious for a second. They've put tails on all of us. Myself, your Guardians, Fuinor, Admon, even Pyotr. Except for you. Do you not see the advantage this gives us? You are the wild card."

"But what if I _could_ convince him to help us?"

"He'd never step forward. If he betrayed his kinsmen, they'd kill him once this ordeal is over."

"Then what if I could get him to inform us in secret? He could tell us where the dark spirits are amassing, who they're targeting next to steal magic from, where Faust is and when he's with the tengu so we can catch him in the act!"

"I already have an informant."

"You do?" Pitch nodded. "You _do_? Who?"

"Irdu."

"Wow, and you think my idea is bad? If anyone can't be trusted, it's him. Why would he help you anyway?"

"Because he's in the pocket of my biggest supporter." When Pitch didn't elaborate, Jack wriggled in his lap, causing the shade to clamp down on his hips to still him. "Isobel Gowdie, Jack."

"Isobel? Really? Why would Irdu listen to her?" Then Jack thought about her sweet face and supposed that he could understand it.

"Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. I can't explain the relationship between those two, but I do know that Irdu wouldn't dare go against her."

"She's that powerful? Okay. Well, I think we should at least talk to North about my idea."

"No."

"Then I'll do it." Jack started to get up, but Pitch pulled him back down and kissed him thoroughly.

Jack decided that this lifestyle was bad for his health. Between fighting for his life nowadays against the powers of darkness and trying to boost his love life (or lack thereof), he was sure he'd go mad. Especially if Pitch insisted that he didn't want to be in a relationship with him, yet kept doing things like this.

Jack reached for Pitch's hand, but it was pulled away, and he made a frustrated noise. "Seriously? Now that's too intimate too?"

The golden gaze slipped away, focusing on the carpet. "It was fine before you…"

Jack's eyes flashed angrily. "Before I what?"

"Started loving me."

Jack made another grab at his hand, succeeded, and squeezed as hard as he could. Pitch's stoic expression did not change. Ice crept up those slender ashen fingers until they gleamed pale white. Jack's heart was breaking; Pitch was just looking at the floor and…

Jack slowly climbed off of Pitch Black, Boogeyman, Nightmare King, the shade who held his heart in his hands and did nothing with it. He took up his staff and left, because he knew that things would never be as they were where he could just mindlessly enjoy Pitch's company. He had alerted Pitch to his feelings, and he had ruined this.

Before he headed out the tunnel, he heard a soft "Jack".

"…Yeah?"

"We do need to talk to North. The meetings…you can come back."

"How generous of you." He couldn't force anger into his voice. He just kept coming back to this guy, and he didn't know how to stop.

"_Jack_."

He turned, hoping that his exasperated look was enough of a hint. "What?"

Pitch looked like he meant to say something important, but he apparently changed his mind. "You are unique. You will play a key role."

Jack rolled his eyes and flew out. The night air was hot, making his clothes cling to him uncomfortably. He landed at his pond and immediately froze it over. The ice crackled as it formed, and as soon as the entire surface was covered in white, Jack shuffled the middle of it and lay down.

He needed to get rid of the warmth.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Typos get fixed eventually. I reread what I post to FF to catch mistakes that slipped through the cracks. I'd like to kick Jack and Pitch in the seat of their pants. They need to grow up.

Any of you like Stephen King? I started and finished his novella _The Langoliers_ yesterday, and then had rehearsal for _Kiss Me Kate_. I had a dream of a bunch of langoliers gnawing away at me while singing "Tom, Dick, or Harry". Weird. (I'm a theatergoer, if that didn't clue you in.)


	14. To Work We Go

**To Work We Go**

It felt strange, walking into the Globe Room without being halted by those annoying yeti and seeing Pitch in his usual seat. The shade was wearing his armor still. Jack's feet unconsciously took him towards him, but Pitch looked up suddenly and, oh, look, Pyotr was waving, so Jack headed that way instead.

"Toothiana told me what happened yesterday," Pyotr said softly as Jack sat next to him. "I would ask if you patched things up, but the fact that you're over here tells me otherwise."

Jack put his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand, turning so Pitch couldn't see his mouth. "How good do you think his hearing is?"

"Not as proficient as Bunnymund's."

"Is he looking this way?"

"More like glaring. Wait, he's talking to Fuinor now."

"Good," Jack growled softly. "No, things did not get patched up. We started…talking, and it was going well, but then it all went to crap."

"Why?"

_Yes, why, Jack? Well, let's see. Everything exploded in your face a while ago when you finally realized that you started loving that bastard, and now it's just gone downhill from there, yeah?_ Oh, Jack wished he could tell someone about this, but what was he supposed to say? "I've been getting down and dirty with the Boogeyman and may have started loving him"? He could just imagine how well that would go over.

Jack saw that the others were taking their seats and stood, not answering Pyotr's question. "Can I speak first today?"

"The frost spirit thinks he can actually contribute," Fuinor snorted, crossing his arms.

"Let the lad talk," Admon chided gently. "We come to this table as equals."

"He's a child and knows nothing of the art of war, or strategy. He has been absent for almost all of the key meetings. The details are lost to him."

Jack couldn't muster up a snappy comment. "I have some information that might help. I just want to get this over with."

"Of course," Fuinor mocked. "War doesn't suit your taste, frost spirit."

"I have a name," Jack finally snapped. He caught himself and shook his head. Maro's words were getting to him. "I'd like you to use it."

Fuinor actually rolled his eyes, and Sandy sighed and patted North's arm. North nodded and said, "Continue, Jack."

"Right. Um, two days ago, I actually met the head tengu who struck the bargain with Faust."

"You _what_?"

"What were you doing with him, Jack?"

"_Now_ you tell us? What's with all the ruddy secrets?"

Jack shrank in his seat at all the accusatory tones. He had come into this meeting with the intent to act like one of them, but now they made it sound like his chance encounter had been a secret rendezvous with a dastardly villain. Shit, his throat was closing up. He jumped up from his seat and flew out through the open skylight. Honestly, what was wrong with them? What was wrong with him?

He sat on the roof and curled his legs up to his chest, locking them there with his staff. "All of this could have been avoided," he murmured into the comforting bite of the wind. "If you had just…stopped after that first kiss." It was probably true, but he also knew that he couldn't have stopped after that first kiss.

"You're overthinking this," a low voice murmured, peppered with a light Russian accent.

Jack felt his heart leap into his throat, and he scooted several feet away. "What're you—"

"You don't seem so willing to tell me what is wrong between you and Pitch," Pyotr said, shrugging. "It's okay, you don't have to. I think I can guess." Fear crept into Jack's gaze, but the true frost spirit shook his white head reassuringly. "I am not one to judge. As I have never involved myself in what you Guardians do, I hold no opinions of Pitch Black or you. I know he is a bearer of dark things, but I have met many a being like him, though not as powerful as he."

"That's great and all, but that still doesn't help me. _They_ just keep _judging_ me. I'm coming in, trying to be like they want me to be. I'm trying to take this seriously, I open my mouth, and you hear what they have to say in return? It's like all they can do is look down on me and think I'm going to screw everything up. I…I can't even defend myself, you know. I don't know why, but whenever they start to do _that_, my head shuts down and I can't, I just can't..."

Pyotr regarded him kindly for a minute before looking down at his frost-tinged boots. "They aren't judging you. They are only frightened because you are young. They don't want to steer you wrong, so they feel that they must ensure that you are on the right path. If you have encounters with beings who oppose what you stand for, of course they will worry and seem a little harsh."

"Three-hundred plus is not young."

"In the world of spirits, it certainly is. You're a…how do the Georgians say it? A spring chicken to us."

Jack chuckled and scooted closer. "I guess you're right."

"I am. So smile, Jack Frost. They're just doing what a family does."

"Well, I wouldn't know what a family is like. Not lately."

Pyotr wrapped a comfortingly cold arm around him and rubbed his shoulder in a familiar way. "You must come with me when this is over. I will introduce you to my family. Then you will see. But for now, the one you have is wonderful, in my opinion."

"Thank you," Jack said softly. The spirit's touch didn't produce the same piercing affect as Pitch's did, but it was nice in this moment.

Pyotr nodded regally, reminding Jack that this man was an envoy to a king. "One final piece of advice, my friend. These meetings do require a matter of seriousness, because that is the business. But each of us brings our personality to the table. I have been told you are called the Guardian of Fun. Stick to that, hm?"

Jack grinned and allowed himself to be led back inside. He winced internally when he saw Pitch's murderous scowl – _you don't love me so don't you dare make that face_ – but quickly shook it off when Tooth rushed at him, pressing her hands to his cheeks.

"Jack, please," she said lowly, violet eyes burning with fierce worry. "I don't know what's going on, but we're here."

Jack pulled his best charmer grin and flew out of her grasp, landing on the table. "No prob. Are you guys willing to listen to me now?" His words were mostly directed towards the Guardians.

"We always listen to ya," Bunny insisted.

Jack pointed his staff at him. "You say that, but you're not actually hearing what I'm saying. I'll make you a deal. You let me get through my shpiel without interrupting me."

Bunny's ears lifted curiously. "And what's our side of the bargain?"

"There is no side for you." Jack stopped smiling for a minute, irritation flaring out of the blue. "So shut up and listen." It felt _really_ good to say those words, and the hurt reaction on Bunny's face was even better. The bewildered looks from the others were great. Jack felt a little sick deriving pleasure in that, but his attitude was fluctuating and he was struggling to put a cap on it.

"Allow me to remove this impudent whelp from the table," Fuinor growled, rising and placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Jack," Pyotr murmured, "this is not what I meant!"

"You led him to this behavior?" Pitch asked sharply, rising from his seat. He snapped at Fuinor, "Put your sword away, you idiot. You're not going to cut him down."

Fuinor already had a boot on the table. "Watch me."

"How about we all calm down?" Jack sang, twirling his staff and shoving one hand in his hoodie pocket. He felt the snow form in his palm and laughed to himself.

"Come here, boy," Fuinor commanded.

"You're kinda scary. I think you need to—" Jack whipped the snowball at Fuinor's face, "—chill out!"

It hit its mark dead on. The room fell silent. North, without a doubt the largest spirit in the room, still looked like he actually wanted to leave. Sandy threw up one symbol: a skull. Jack watched as Fuinor slowly wiped the snow from his face, eyes closed. Then, something miraculous happened.

The corners of Fuinor's mouth turned up.

_Frost, one. Purple-grey dark elf lord? Zero._

"…I can easily rid myself of this magic."

"Go for it."

"Why did you do it?"

"Pyotr told me to be myself. You're right,I can't do serious, so I'm going to make this meeting suit my needs." In a more respectful manner, Jack bowed slightly and inquired, "Your Majesty, may I have the floor – or the table?"

Fuinor's grey eyes were brighter than Jack had ever seen them since they had first met. "Very well." He sat, the small smile not leaving his face. Jack counted that as another win.

"Thank you. Now, as I said, I got the chance to meet the tengu's leader in this whole ordeal. Granted, he did try to kill me – ah! I said let me finish without interruptions. He tried, but he obviously failed. However, he was gracious enough to answer some of my questions. He confessed to striking a bargain with Faust. He told me _why_ he struck a bargain with Faust. And there was some other stuff said, but the important thing is that I think he likes me."

Tooth frowned. "And by that, you mean…?"

"We have similar problems is all," Jack clarified. "Now, I know we can't use him telling me the truth as proof enough to go after the tengu. But we _can_ use _him._"

"The lad wants him on our side?" Admon asked no one in particular.

"Yes, and I know I can convince him. If I can get one more meeting with him alone, I'm sure of it."

"But how can we do this?" North asked.

"Just track him down, easy."

"Getting him to meet with you is an entirely different story," Pyotr protested.

"We've got time."

"No, we don't," Pitch said quietly. Heads swiveled. "Faust came to call on the day I missed the meeting."

"You mean the day you poured darkness into my Workshop to accuse Jack?" North asked.

"Just when were you going to tell us?" Tooth said shrilly.

Pitch scowled. "Let bygones be bygones. Faust said he's done waiting. He says he wants to strike a deal with me. He'll leave you all alone if we can reach an agreement."

"Guess we'd better start gearin' up for battle," Bunny said.

"No. I'm considering his offer."

Jack felt his heart quiver. "You can't be serious. What the hell have we been doing all this for then?"

"Jack," Tooth said, staring at Pitch with blatant amazement. "He's doing this for _us_."

"Don't flatter yourself," Pitch disagreed. "This had been drawn on for too long. I'm tired of it. He's set up a meeting place and a time."

Sandy's golden countenance flared brightly, and the symbols above his head flashed rapidly. They all watched, and Jack knew he didn't understand any of it, but when the Sandman was done, Pitch looked oddly grateful. "As…generous as that is, I must take his offer seriously. For my sake, not for yours."

"If that's the case, we can't let you go," Bunny growled. "We're not letting you give him more power. Faust can't be trusted, and neither can you."

Pitch spread his hands. "He has demanded to meet me within the week. What would you have me do?"

"Uh, not go?" Jack suggested, trying to catch Pitch's eye. No dice.

"I make no promises."

There was a collective groan from the room. Jack sat down in the middle of the table and sent trails of ice to each contributor, gaining their attention once more. "Can I round off my thoughts?" When he had quiet, he said, "The only reason Faust is able to get away with this crap is because he has the muscle to back him up. Forget the other spirits that he sided with; they're small fry. His biggest supporters are the tengu. We break the bond between them, and we have him."

"What do you propose we do?" Fuinor asked, surprisingly polite. He had stopped smiling, but his aura seemed much lighter.

"Well, I'm no master tactician, you were right about that. But you guys are. And each of you can do something to rip the tengu and Faust apart. Pitch?" The shade raised his eyebrows. "I don't know what to say, but I know you have a plan. You can help. Just tell us what to do."

Slowly, very slowly, Pitch rose. Jack thought, in all his regal armor, he looked like a majestic war hero, a general, a king. "I can try. If we want to throw Faust off, we have to start with his underlings. He hasn't been very busy because his minions haven't faced great opposition yet. Admon, send your forces into battle. Give them something to worry about. However, make the damage minor, and take as many prisoners as possible. Death is the only thing that would set the tengu king on us. Fuinor, are your men still tracking Faust?"

"We have a general location. He's moved down south to America. We cannot get close to him though. He's created a boundary with the tengu. They're watching us too. When we try to press in, they fight back. My soldiers have escaped the skirmishes unharmed, but I cannot guarantee their safety if we move in."

"I need a specific location. Kill the spirits who are guarding him, tengu or not. Their king won't miss a few. If he did not stir when we took their lives as they invaded the Workshop, he will not stir now."

Jack frowned. _Dial it back a few notches._

"Pyotr, go with Fuinor. Your presence is merely a courtesy, and I understand that the General would rather not involve his men in our affairs. Once the guards are taken care of, all I want you to do is make Faust's day as unpleasant as possible. If there's one thing I know that man hates, it's the cold."

"I could help him," Jack piped up eagerly. "I know how to make a mean storm."

Pitch ignored him. "Once his guards are gone, he'll most likely be on the move. Toothiana, set your fairies on him to follow. They're less noticeable."

"Where has Faust asked you to meet him?" Tooth asked. Jack sulked quietly and curled his staff to his chest. Even now, Pitch had to be a jerk. All Jack wanted to do was fix things.

"He hasn't told me. He'll send someone for me to escort me there if I accept. Your fairies will report back on his exact location. Sanderson, I have a feeling that the meeting will be near a public place, and in order to ensure that you are not all _whining_ in my ear later for reckless endangerment of your precious children, you will use your sand to clear the area of witnesses when we go to confront him. Plant suggestions in their minds to leave, or let them drop to sleep where they are so they aren't running around like headless chickens when things get ugly."

"What makes you think it'll get ugly?" Jack grumbled, not expecting an answer.

Pitch actually did reply, though he didn't look at him. "I have a feeling. North, Bunnymund, you'll be on the frontal assault with your yetis and stone guards. Fuinor will join you with his troops as well."

"That's a lot of muscle on our end for one man," Bunny said. "Don'tcha think it'll be overkill? His guards will have been taken out by then."

"Unfortunately, I don't believe Fuinor will be able to kill all of his guards. We have already discussed the possibility that Faust is being influenced by another, yes? Someone brilliant. So there will probably be others who will hide in the shadows very close to Faust. And they will be specified to each of you Guardians."

Jack raised a hand, and when no one called on him, he said, "What am I doing?"

_At last_, Pitch looked at him, but it was a dull look. "You are so insistent that you can convince that stupid tengu to come forward, so that's what you'll be doing. I'll send a Nightmare out to contact him. He'll get the message and come to you if he wants to. While we're busy, and if you succeed in turning him, take him to the tengu king and explain."

Jack frowned, but the others were already standing, their orders clear.

"If this works, Faust should be out of our hair by the end of this week," Pitch said rather pleasantly. "Let's get started right away to ensure that that becomes reality. Admon, walk with ne, and we'll discuss how to deal with the tengu for the moment. Bunnymund, you and I shall talk later on figuring out just how Faust has been stripping spirits of magic. All the reports that have come in are useless, constantly contradicting each other. We'll discuss precautions."

Jack was left sitting, blinking stupidly as they all left, then he slowly climbed to his feet. That…could have gone more in his favor. At least they had a definite plan, but honestly, he had been hoping—

"Jack?"

He turned. "Oh. Bunny. What's up?" He saw the droop of the ears, the wideness of the eyes, and recalled what he had snapped at the Pooka. His heart clenched; Bunny was his friend, and he had gone off on him because he had been annoyed. An apology was definitely in order, as soon as the rabbit finished what he had to say.

Bunny, in all his tall, intimidating glory, actually shuffled his feet. "I…don't expect you to…I didn't mean to say that…I'm sorry, Jack. I really am."

Jack's eyebrows knitted together. "No, I shouldn't have said that. I just…wanted you guys to listen to me."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

They stood there awkwardly, and then Jack asked, "So do we kiss and make up?"

Bunny scrunched up his nose. "Substitute the kiss fer a hug, an' you've got yourself a deal."

Jack laughed and burrowed his face in Bunny's fur as his arms came around him. It felt good to reconcile; in truth, he needed to patch up his relationships with all of the Guardians. Ever since this trouble had started with those shifts, he felt that they had drifted apart. Even though the pressing matter of Faust had brought them together physically, Jack felt that they weren't as in tune with each other as they had been when they had dealt with Pitch.

"I'm gonna go home," Jack said at length, withdrawing himself and punching Bunny lightly on the arm. "I guess I'm not useful to Pitch like I thought I could be." And damn it all if he hadn't said too much, because Bunny's ears went up with remembrance and he stopped Jack.

"About that bloke," he said lowly, and Jack tensed because Bunny looked _really_ uncomfortable. "I've been meanin' to talk to you about him."

"What?" Jack asked carefully, because he had a sinking feeling that shit was about to hit the fan in a _big_ way.

Bunny searched for the words, then blurted, "I'm okay with it."

Jack stared. Then he almost smiled, but by the way Bunny was looking at him, and the way he had said that, he was pretty sure they weren't on the same page. "Could you, uh, be a little more specific?" _So I don't say anything to fuck myself over?_

"I noticed after the shifts became a regular thing," Bunny started, and Jack was sure they were almost on the same page. "You may not realize, but rabbits have fantastic noses."

Jack paled. "Oh, _God_." Bunny had _smelled_ Pitch on him? "Oh my _God!_"

"And then you tried to convince us to let him go around an' all that," Bunny was continuing, "and you just seemed to be spending a lot of time with him, and you always took our shifts and never came back complaining that he was treating you like he did us, and I figured it out."

Jack actually had to sit down and bury his face in his hands, because he was horrified, and this was so embarrassing, and—

"Jack," Bunny said seriously, and Jack forced himself to look at him. "I said it's okay, but I have to tell ya, I don't think it's a good idea."

"But I l—"

"He'll never be one of us, and he'll never be your friend, no matter how much you try to win him over."

_Oooooh._

Jack shut up immediately. They were no way on the same page. Hell, they weren't even in the same book. In fact, he was pretty sure that their books were in separate libraries in separate galaxies, and good _God_, Bunny had smelled Pitch on Jack and thought Jack was trying to make _friends_ with the guy?

Jack laughed.

"I don't think it's very funny, mate," Bunny reprimanded. "And trying to befriend him right after we put him down was dangerous. What if he'd hurt you? Or taken advantage of you or something?"

Tears of mirth leaked from Jack's eyes, and he swiped them away quickly. "Oh, Bunny, have I told you how much I love you?"

Bunny was flustered, but looked rather pleased with the declaration. "Th-thanks, then. So you understand what I'm saying?"

Jack waved a hand. "Sort of. Can you just sum it up?"

"I don't like the idea of you being friends with Pitch. He's never going to be on our side. I know you think you can change it, and I'm tempted to believe you. You've got a dynamic personality, Jack."

"Dynamic," Jack repeated with a shit-eating grin. "Nice."

Bunny cuffed him over the head. "Shut up. My point is that you shouldn't keep it up. But I'm okay with it."

Jack slowly flew up until he hovered over Bunny's furry head. "Thank you, Bunny. I'm glad we have your blessing."

Bunny smiled, none the wiser.

* * *

Jack couldn't stop laughing as he flew home. It was funny. A little too funny, actually. For a minute there, when Bunny had first said he was okay with it, Jack had hoped that he actually had found out about his tryst with Pitch. Because seriously, if one of the Guardians knew _and_ said it was okay, then there was probably nothing better! If at least one approved, then maybe Jack wasn't wrong in having these feelings for Pitch, and maybe he'd have a legitimate chance in convincing Pitch to consider him as a love interest.

But Bunny didn't know. And Pitch wouldn't consider anything anytime soon. Jack pushed up high and shut his eyes as he flew straight through a long chain of clouds. If he could just drown out the emotional side of this ordeal and focus on the other side, whatever that was. Then maybe he'd get along alright.

His pond was coming up, and his sharp eyes picked out a dark figure walking along the edge of his frozen habitat. Maro. The Nightmares had gotten to him fast, Jack thought in confusion, but as he drew nearer, he realized that there were no Nightmares with the tengu. He had come on his own. Jack set down quietly in a tree lush with green and peered out through the leaves at Maro, who hadn't sensed him yet.

Maybe this was a chance to start their second semi-neutral meeting out with a friendly scare. Jack silently slid down to the grass and crept forward to the edge of the tree line. He floated the rest of the way forward and, after struggling to not to laugh, darted forward and latched his arms around Maro's neck in a friendly way.

"Hey, bud—"

Probably not his best idea.

Next thing he knew, he was on his back, staring up at a clear summer sky, pinned by the neck. He felt the talons dig into his flesh, tearing it, and blood dripped in a minor degree. Maro's eyes were wide with adrenaline, and the venom they poured forth didn't lessen as they locked onto Jack's face with slow recognition. Jack didn't move, didn't breathe, just let the tengu work through his thoughts until he was ready to speak.

"That was unwise."

Jack shrugged, which was a little difficult and uncomfortable with sharp talons digging into his skin and blood dripping down his neck. "S'ry."

Maro rolled his eyes and let him up. Jack ignored the cuts on his neck, knowing they'd heal up eventually. They sat in the grass next to each other, and Jack just beamed brightly at him until he scowled with disgust and asked, "What?"

"Taking me up on my offer?"

"What offer?" Maro sniffed.

Jack faced him and put on his serious face. "I'd like you to come with us. Please, I know you want to, even if it scares you."

"I'm not scared of anything."

"Yeah, okay," Jack scoffed. "Then come with us. Go before your king and tell him the truth so we can end this!"

Maro paled, a color that didn't seem right on a man of his stature, age, and strength. "I lied. That _is_ something I'm scared of."

"Really? You'd be doing the right thing."

"No, you don't understand. All of us who have joined Faust…we're traitors. King Sojobo decreed long ago that we were to cease our interference in human affairs. So many of us were dying, and we were content to live in the forests anyway. But tengu like me grew discontent with how the humans continued to take our land through the years, not even realizing that we existed there."

"I know how that feels."

A new light entered Maro's eyes. "You _do_, don't you? You Guardians are kept alive through the human children. You do know what it's like to be thought of as nonexistent. Why would you subject yourself to that?"

"This is about you right now," Jack said gently. "Why would you be scared to confess to this king of yours? Dealing with Faust was just a lapse in judgment. Can't it be fixed?"

"If I tell him, he might kill me. And if he doesn't, the others would kill me for betraying them."

"How has King Sojo-jojo not heard about all the shit you guys have been pulling anyway?"

Maro frowned at Jack's gross mispronunciation of the royal name. "King _Sojobo_ has kept to himself in Mt. Fuji for centuries. He expects us to deal with our problems as best we can before coming to him. He expects us to obey on our honor. I have broken that honor, and should he hear of it...should he see any of our faces and know what we have done, he will strike us down where we stand."

"But he's bound to know of it eventually," Jack reminded him softly.

"Yes, but hopefully he will hear when this matter is over with, and he will see the good we have done when we take back our land."

"You'll wage a war on the human world and put every spirit in danger. Even if you have the magic to defend yourselves, others won't. What's to stop them from coming after all of us?"

Maro didn't answer; just sank his head into his hands and groaned. Jack stretched out an arm unconsciously to pull him in comfortingly, then thought it would be a little weird because one, they were enemies, two, he hardly knew the guy, three, he was way younger that Maro, and four, again, it would be _weird._ Instead, Jack shifted his hand just above that black hair and sprinkled a little good snow over him. The magic struck Maro softly, and he raised his eyes to meet Jack's.

A smile tugged at his lips. "What did you do?"

"Made you feel good, if only for a minute."

"Interesting use of magic."

"I try…what can I do to assure you that it'll be alright if you come with me to the king?"

Maro shook his head mutely.

"What are you afraid of? That once you speak, you'll be left on your own? I won't let that happen. You won't be alone. I'll stand right by you and tell him again. Just come with me."

"…You will be there?"

"_Yes_," Jack replied emphatically, joy crashing into his heart like a wave. This was going to work! Maro would come, the king would stop the tengu, Pitch wouldn't have to go, and maybe—_whoa, hold it!_

Maro's hand had slinked to the back of his neck and was pulling him closer. To kiss him.

"W-wait," Jack stuttered, pushing him away. "That's not – I don't want to – I think we've come to a bit of a misunderstanding."

_Oh, shit,_ he thought. _What if he won't come unless I…?_

"I can see you thinking, Frost," Maro said, lying back in the grass and folding his hands behind his head. "I am not so petty a creature that I would coerce you into relations with me for this." He smirked. "I know how you are with _him_."

Jack blushed a frightening red. "E-ex_cuse_ me?!"

Maro was laughing openly. "Neither of you could fool me, kid. When I saw you together, your scents were all over each other. It was obvious."

"What is with everyone smelling me?!" First Pitch, then Bunny, now _this_ arrogant prick who was still laughing even as Jack dug his bare toes into his side in an attempt to get him to stop. It only served to further Maro's laughter. "Are you ticklish?"

Maro stopped and looked at him, still smiling. "No." Jack pressed his feet in harder, but no laughter was elicited. "I just find it amusing."

"Great," Jack moaned. "Just what I need. The enemy looking into my love life."

"Or lack thereof," Maro snorted.

"Low blow, man. Really low."

Maro stood and brushed loose grass from his pants. "I must go. I only returned to see if your companions had talked you out of trying to turn me to your side."

"You knew I'd tell them about you?"

"Simple deduction," Maro commented offhandedly.

"Will you come again?" Jack asked eagerly.

"So you can convince me to side with you?" Maro sighed. "I suppose. But don't expect me to visit anytime soon." He glanced at the ridge and smirked. "Oh, look."

Jack did and really just wanted to die.

Pitch had the worst timing.

At least he didn't look angry. Jack leapt up and waved, smiling as reassuringly as possible. Nothing was wrong here. Nothing had happened. It was totally—

Maro caught him by surprise and pressed their lips together.

Jack shrieked – "What the fuck?!" – and fell on his butt as Maro jumped into the air, cackling. Jack gasped and looked at Pitch, eyes wide and pleading, but Pitch didn't look as angry as he had the last time. In fact, he looked very amused.

"Like his taste?" he called.

"Quite," Maro replied. "Watch your back!"

"The same to you."

Jack watched the tengu fly off into the distance, then shot to Pitch's side. "I swear, I didn't mean to let him catch me off guard."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," Pitch said, quite content to watch Maro's retreating figure with a smirk. "You don't belong to me."

Of course not. It struck Jack odd, though, that Pitch had played the part of jealous boyfriend during his contact with Pyotr, had questioned Jack about what he and Maro had been doing that first time. "Oh, right," Jack said tiredly. "I'm just your convenient boy toy, so it doesn't matter who kisses me. He seems pretty eager, so maybe I'll stick my hands down his pants next time he comes around."

He laughed bitterly at the shock that bloomed on the Boogeyman's face and flew off. He did not need this. What he needed was for this week to be over with, and he'd be free of everything for eternity.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I really do hate talking strategy, but this chapter had to be done. I'll make it up to you guys in the next one.


	15. Take This Heart As Thine Own

**Take This Heart As Thine Own**

Jack was mute at the meeting the next day. He didn't look at Pitch's face even once – he felt so proud of himself – and made sure to sit extra close to Pyotr. He was a handsome man and had shown interest in Jack. It might have been platonic, but Jack did recall him asking if he wanted to return with him to wherever he was from.

Jack hadn't given him an answer.

He really couldn't afford to think of that right now. The meeting was only a quick thing; everyone reported on their progress. North and Bunny said their respective forces were ready and up for a fight. Admon detailed the battles between the rogue tengu and his people, and that they were making some progress, though it was difficult to take prisoners and maintain them. Fuinor said that three of Faust's guards on West Virginia's state lines were out of the picture, and that he hadn't seen any of the ones Pitch had said Faust would be hiding away. Tooth's fairies had zeroed in on the city Faust had taken refuge in; it was only a matter of getting closer. Sandy was on standby.

Pitch had commended everyone in that authoritative voice that made Jack want to bask in his presence, but still the Guardian refused to look at the Boogeyman. When the meeting dispersed, Pyotr leaned over and murmured in his ear, "Whatever you're doing, I think it's a bad idea."

"I don't care," Jack replied curtly, watching Tooth take Pitch down a hallway to discuss something in private, probably about the information her fairies had bought. Jealousy curled in his heart and he banged his head on the table. "What's wrong with me?"

"You know what I think? I think that once this is over, you need to escape. You never gave me an answer. Do you want to come with me for a while? I can show you so much about our people. You can meet my family, I'm sure the General would be ecstatic to—"

Jack listened to his fellow frost spirit go on about the joys waiting for him when he came along to meet the family, and he wondered what would happen if he did go. Would he finally find his place? Have a home he'd belong to and settle down? He thought of Pitch's home in England and those stupid images he'd imagined, and sadly realized that that was where he'd prefer to be.

"Sorry," Jack said, interrupting his friend's endless stream of chatter. "I can't give you a proper answer until this whole thing is over. Can you wait?"

"Of course," Pyotr said, surprised. "We have an eternity, Jack."

Jack stretched an arm over the table and rested his head in the crook of his elbow so he could see Pyotr. "Guess you're right." His other hand played spider on the wood, skittering back and forth until a paler hand smashed it playfully. Jack laughed and tried to escape, but the grip was strong and cold. It felt nice.

Jack paused and curiously pushed his fingers through Pyotr's, just to see what the sensation was like. It wasn't the same as when he did it with Pitch. Instead of a warmth spreading through his hand and arm, it was cold and similar, and while it wasn't uncomfortable or unpleasant, it felt _ordinary._ Jack spread ice onto Pyotr's fingers slowly before burying his eyes in his arm and sighing.

"What do you see in him?" Pyotr asked with wonder, looking at their hands.

"God knows."

"You love him?"

Jack swallowed. "I started to."

"Did you stop?"

"Don't think so."

Pyotr lifted their hands. "Are you trying to?"

Jack sat up and stared at their frosty fingers lazily. The combination, so pale, so cold, so _compatible_. But it just wasn't special. "I…"

A sharp intake of breath drew his eyes over. Tooth and Pitch had returned from their talk, and were staring at the icy spirits with wide eyes. Embarrassment hit Jack because he first noticed Tooth, in all her bright colors. But her mouth was closed. His eyes slid over to Pitch, and he felt sick.

The man was _staring_ at him with these eyes that looked like they were breaking, and he looked pale and his mouth was parted. _He_ had gasped. He was just staring at their hands, their sinful hands brought together under frost, and he honed in on the way the ice had formed over Pyotr's fingers, and something in that gaze quietly broke further. Pitch Black spun on his heel and promptly disappeared into the shadows.

Pyotr grimaced and disentangled their hands. "I'll take my leave for the day. Jack. Tooth." He bowed slightly and rose up on a cold wind, exiting by the skylight.

Jack grabbed his hair quietly and tugged, finding the pain a great distraction. He heard the soft flutter of wings as Tooth sat next to him. "Jack."

"…Yeah?"

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"No, not really. That was me fucking everything up."

Tooth took a deep breath and said quietly, "I'm okay with it."

"There's nothing between me and Pyotr."

"I'm not talking about Pyotr. I'm talking about you and Pitch."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's great. Glad I have yours and Bunny's blessings to befriend Pitch."

"So you're regressing to friends? So soon?"

Jack froze. He slowly met the Guardian's violet gaze and was horrified to find her smirking. Tooth, _smirking_. Dear God on high, what was the world coming to? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please. You think I didn't realize what was going on when I opened that office door? Bunny and I have wonderful noses and we talked about it a bit, but he's too…clueless to understand what this all really meant. Which I find funny, seeing how rabbits are very wild in mating season. You'd think he'd understand."

Jack actually let out a strangled scream. "You've got to be kidding me! _Are_ you kidding me? I'm done! What the hell?! I'm _done!_"

Tooth was giggling uncontrollably and grasped his arm, forcing him to sit. "Let Bunny continue on his own path. I'm sure he'll find out eventually."

"He'd better not," Jack warned dangerously, snatching up his staff.

"I'd never tell. I think it's sweet. Of course, you could have picked someone else, but Pitch Black will do for now."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. Want to talk about it?"

"No. Just say what you want to say so I can leave and throw myself off the mountain. Or maybe I'll lay down in the runway and let North's reindeer trample me on their next takeoff."

Tooth smiled with a motherly sort of air and said in her best lecture voice, "You need to work things out between you two. Honestly, both of you are being so childish…but it's good. Jack, you may not realize what you've done. You're bringing Pitch _back_."

"What do you mean, back?"

"Haven't you seen the changes in him? Not only in his face, but in his dress. I didn't know he still had that armor."

Jack blushed. "I was hoping he had worn it on my suggestion."

The magenta cosmos eyes widened. "_You_ found where his armor was stored? Where?"

"Um…I can't tell you. That's kinda how this whole trouble started. I went somewhere I shouldn't have."

"Oh, sweetie. I think this trouble started long before that. You only escalated it."

"Gee, thanks," he snarked. "You wanna tell me what you two were talking about?"

"Oh, I was giving him a similar talk."

"What? Why would you do that? Wait, what did he say?"

The smile Tooth gave him was both reassuring and sad. "Now that's something I can't tell you."

Jack sighed. What had he been thinking? He had only been snuggling up to Pyotr to make himself feel better; he didn't know why he had done the ice thing to his hands. That had always been his and Pitch's thing. Pitch wasn't supposed to see that. He wasn't supposed to make that noise. He wasn't supposed to look like Jack had just snatched his entire world from him and dashed it to pieces.

"Tooth, what do I do?"

She gave him a nudge. "Simple. Go after him."

* * *

The sun was hot. Well, of course. It was late July. Jack was lying face down in the dirt, panting, one arm hanging over the edge of the entrance to Pitch's lair. He couldn't do it. He could not go down there. He had done a terrible thing.

"Oh, to be out of love," he moaned into the heated dirt. He'd heard a guy muttering that once when he'd flown by Burgess's local library. Maybe he'd become a poet, wax philosophy on the perils of becoming involved. Yeah, becoming involved screwed up everything.

"_Jack._"

He perked up and peered down into the dark. He heard nothing else for a while, but then a quiet snuffling came up, and a black sandy nose poked out. Jack scratched Onyx's jowls and pressed his forehead to the cool space between her eyes. "You still like me, right, girl?"

Onyx nipped his hoodie and dragged him closer to the edge. Jack resisted. "No, no, I can't go down. Haven't you sensed it? He's mad at me."

Onyx's tugging only grew more insistent, until Jack rolled his eyes and followed her down. The dim light and the underground atmosphere were an immediate comfort. Jack alighted on a slanted staircase and refused to go any further when Onyx stamped her feet impatiently. "No. No, he's mad at me. And I'm mad at him too, in a sense."

"_Jack._"

He looked around, fingers tightening around his staff. Where was that voice coming from? It was a whisper, masculine as far as he could tell, and…it sounded like Pitch, in his head. Part of him wanted it to be Pitch. He heard the call again and reluctantly stood, following the eager Nightmare. He blanched when they alighted on the ground before _the_ tunnel.

"You're crazy."

Onyx pranced in place.

"Yeah, you really are. Last time I went in the—_aaah!_"

Onyx clamped her teeth down on his sleeve. Jack struggled against her fierce grip, but couldn't help being dragged in. She brought him all the way to the closed door which still had the golden arrowhead stuck in it. Onyx let Jack go and swept out of the tunnel with a swish of her tail. Jack pressed his forehead against the cool wood and exhaled frost on it.

"C'mon, Jackie-boy. C'mon, it's okay. It's…" He sat down and looked up at the door, then pressed a finger to it. A streak of ice shot out and up, followed by several more, until the most beautiful spirals curled lovingly across the dark wood.

"_Jack_."

They were so delicate, those frosty blue curls which kissed the darkness and clung to it desperately. Like him. Jack looked upon them with quiet sorrow and stretched up a hand to attempt to touch the golden arrowhead, falling so short of it that he rested his forehead against the door wearily.

"_Ja_—"

"Shut up," he whispered harshly. He knew what was making that sound now. God damn Fearlings and their torturous voices. "Just let me be. I've suffered enough."

He let his eyes fall shut, and everything seemed so much better.

Then the door suddenly swung open, pushing him flat on his back. He squeaked when the bottom edge scraped his toes, and he drew his legs in, sitting up. Disoriented, he tipped forward into a pair of warm hands. The gasp which flew from his lips echoed off the walls only for a second before it was swallowed up as Pitch Black kissed the life out of him. Jack's cheeks were wet, and the taste of salt accompanied the slick warmth of Pitch's tongue, but it was so gratifying, and his heart, his _heart_—!

"I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_, please, I didn't – I don't understand—"

And all of this was said breathlessly by the frost spirit as he struggled to press himself as tightly as possible to the tall shade and pull back far enough to get these words out.

"Quiet," Pitch grunted into his neck, pulling him through the door and shutting it. They fell against the stone steps, Jack writhing desperately in his arms. "Jack, why didn't you come when I called?"

"That was you?" Jack withdrew from his touch completely and sat on his heels, looking up at the steady gaze of the Nightmare King reclining lazily on the steps. His armor seemed to melt with him in the dim light. Something in Jack's gut twisted, because Pitch was wearing that mask of stone. Jack knew what he had seen at the Workshop. The man had looked like he had been betrayed when he saw the entwined fingers of the frost spirits.

Wordlessly, Jack lay his staff down, shifted up, and stretched over Pitch's lean body, pressing their lips together lightly. He had betrayed this man. It was all he could think of. He moved to the elegant curve of his jaw. The armor stopped him from gracing the shade's neck with his frosty touch, but he skipped over it and went straight down to his legs. His nimble fingers found the edge of Pitch's pants and pulled; Pitch shifted to allow it, and Jack saw his half-aroused member in the dim light.

When he licked experimentally at the dark skin, he felt the man shiver. "Cold?" he whispered apologetically.

"Yes." The voice was smoky, rough, anticipating. Jack moved away but Pitch immediately threaded his hands through Jack's windblown hair. "Don't stop."

Jack obliged, taking the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip. He felt pressure on the back of his skull and went further down obediently, then up, sucking as he did. The groan on high struck him, shot straight down to his groin, and he felt himself growing hard. It didn't distract him, though, and with Pitch's guidance, he developed a steady pace with his mouth, bringing up a hand to assist him.

His mouth felt like it was on fire; Pitch was heavy on his tongue, burning with a heat that Jack wanted to swallow and let consume him from the inside out. Just the same, he let some of his frigid magic cool the inside of his mouth off. Pitch seemed to like that; Jack could hear it in the hitch of his breath, could feel it in the tightening of his grip on his hair. The grip felt good. Jack hummed, and the vibrations were a pleasure for both of them, and the lithe hands in his hair wound through the silver strands a little more to the point where it was on the borderline of pain.

_Good,_ Jack thought bitterly, and if Pitch jerked suddenly, he ignored it. He took a deep breath through his nose and went down, taking as much of him as he can, and he was proud that he didn't gag when Pitch hit the back of his throat. Coming back up, he saw Pitch's head was thrown back in ecstasy. He continued to take him like that until his eyes smarted with threatening tears, but by then he could hear Pitch's erratic breathing.

Jack sucked hard and this time tears did spill over, because he was sorry, too sorry, and he had to make it up to him somehow, and this was the only way he could think of—

"_Jack_," Pitch gasped; half of his voice was filled with wonton pleasure, the other half a mix of disbelief and…something painful that Jack couldn't acknowledge.

He increased the pressure with his mouth, bore with the heat, hand still moving, and suddenly he was being pulled up, cock replaced with greedy lips that forwent the playful nipping and just kissed him. His hand never stopped, and he swallowed Pitch's shuddering moan as he came. Jack felt the hot liquid spill over his hand and he thought, _This is all I can do for him now. All I can_—

"Why are you so _stupid_, Jack?"

Jack's clean hand came up to stroke Pitch's face tremblingly. "I-I hurt you a-and I—"

Pitch wouldn't let him finish. "I can _taste_ your guilt, and that is why I think you're an idiot, because you're guilty of nothing."

"But I—"

"Will you shut up?" Jack flinched away at the order, but Pitch's hands drew him back in, far gentler than his words. "No, no, this is – I've done you wrong, Jack."

"I started to l—"

"I know."

"…But you don't?"

"No." The admission was quiet, but Jack's heart leapt because it was _apologetic._ "If you think I would use you like _this_ to make up for something, especially when there is nothing for you to make up, then you're a moron."

"Stop finding different ways to call me stupid," Jack choked. "You were okay with me trying to do _this_ before."

"You weren't trying to make up for anything that time. You were trying to be near me when I was trying to break your heart."

"I hurt you. I saw it in you, when you saw me and Pyotr."

He loved the way Pitch stiffened at the name, because that meant something in the depths of that dark heart was stirring for _Jack_. "You did not…perhaps I was irked. But I would not make you apologize for it this way."

"Why would did bother you?" He needed to hear it; Pitch was so close to saying it.

"Because I…"

And that was when Jack knew Pitch would never say it. Could never say it. He smiled though, and murmured, "It's okay."

Pitch at last managed to finish his sentence. "Because I don't like Pyotr."

"Liar." But Jack accused him fondly.

The velvety laugh was familiar and friendly. A comfort to Jack, because it told him that although they still had major unresolved issues, they were okay at the moment. He could live with this moment.

He felt a gentle brush of shadows against his hand, wrapping it in darkness and removing the evidence of Pitch's pleasure. Jack was still hard, but he picked up his staff and stood up, ignoring the uncomfortable restriction of his pants. He waited for Pitch to make himself presentable. The tall shade stretched out a hand in the comforting darkness.

"Come."

Jack shuddered, and he was pretty sure he was crying, but he slid the tips of his white fingers over Pitch's, then up his palm, and closed them over. There was a falling sensation in his stomach; the darkness lifted from his eyes, and they were standing in the foyer.

"Too lazy to crawl out from under the bed?" Jack joked quietly, leaning heavily against him.

"Hm," Pitch hummed, squeezing his hand. Jack pushed ice onto the tips of his fingers cautiously and snuck a glance at his face. When the faintest of smiles appeared there, he continued until those luxurious grey fingers were gleaming white with frost.

This was how it should be, Jack thought right before he sneezed violently.

"Ah," Pitch commented absentmindedly. "Well, I haven't really visited this place for a few decades. I never found a need to clean."

Jack drummed his fingers along the side of his staff and an idea came to mind. He left Pitch's side – Pitch's grip on his hand lingered hesitantly before letting go, making his heart soar – and opened the front door. More sunlight streamed in, and Jack looked around to make sure that the other doors to every room in the house, save the attic, were at least partially cracked. Then he raised his conduit and called on a deep, gentle wind.

It was a little disturbing, watching masses of dust rise from the floors, walls, and other surfaces, and be swept up to a swirling core in the middle of the foyer. Jack directed the small air currents like a conductor, glancing at Pitch occasionally. The man was watching him, only him, mouth lax in a line, but eyes bright and warm. Jack sent the wind and the plague of grey dirt and dust out the front door, far into the forest, before moving back to Pitch's side.

"Thank you," Pitch said humorously. "I was growing weary of seeing footprints. Rather disgusting, if you ask me."

"If you…" Jack let the comment die. He didn't want to say something to set Pitch off.

"Jack." The man sounded exasperated. "You can't tiptoe around me like this."

"Last time I did something without thinking, you shut me out."

Pitch took his hand again. "I shouldn't have done that, Jack." They stood in silence for a few minutes before Pitch tugged him along.

Jack went on a third tour of the house, a cleaner tour now that the dust had cleared. He wasn't alone this time.

The kitchen really did suit Pitch, even though they just stood in it side by side. Its dark counters and cabinets were beautiful, absolutely his style. The visions came to Jack unbidden again, so he forced back laughter as best he could. That didn't stop Pitch from sensing his emotions. He looked at him questioningly. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Jack replied with a chuckle. "I'm just glad you can't read minds."

"…Sometimes I wish I could read yours."

Jack looked up at him, knowing his eyes were shining pathetically like a lovesick puppy. "I wish that too sometimes." He dragged Pitch to the dining room. The place was still a wreck, and dust still lingered in the sunbeams, but with the extra presence in the room now, the place felt alive. Jack saw the company at the table in his mind's eye again, and familial affection struck his heart, making him yearn.

"I sense fondness now," Pitch said with a raised eyebrow. "Something I should know?"

"I just…imagine things how I want them to be." Jack shrugged casually.

"What do you imagine?"

Jack grinned lopsidedly and swung their joined hands. "I'd rather not share. Too embarrassing."

"Please." The whispered plea crawled down his neck and spine, and a kiss was pressed to the side of his mouth. Pitch pushed Jack into the foyer. "From the beginning."

So Jack, with a little coaxing and a lot of kissing, began to explain in a tremulous voice, how he saw this house in his ideal situation. So they moved from the foyer to the kitchen, to the dining room, to the den, and to the library. They stopped there in front of the dead fireplace there, Pitch's arms wound around Jack, his broad chest throwing warmth into the frost spirit's back.

"You have quite the imagination."

"Can't be the Guardian of Fun without it." That earned him a lovely chuckle, and they went upstairs.

"What did you see for the attic?"

"Nothing, really," Jack said, looking up at the trapdoor. "I was too preoccupied by all the stuff I found. I guess I could say I imagined you telling me about it." He craned his neck. "Would you?"

"Perhaps," Pitch said, kissing his forehead. "But not now. Not this week. I have to keep my mind focused on the meeting."

Jack turned in surprise. "With Faust? You're still going? We're doing all of this to prevent that!"

"He'll call on me," Pitch said wearily. "Isobel and Irdu have been informing me on his movements, but from what they say, I can tell that this is not all his doing. He's too coordinated, moving too swiftly and successfully to be working alone. I know it's none of the spirits who have sided on him. None of them have the gall or the cunning to aid him like this. I need to find out who's pulling the strings."

"You don't have to go."

"Perhaps I want to." Jack was stunned. "Jack, you know who I am. I thrive in darkness and fear. Whether he's being controlled or not, from the way Faust is going about this, I find it quite promising."

Jack took his hands seriously. "That's great, except I know it's not true. Not all of it, anyway. You may like what Faust is doing, but you don't like sharing, and I think you've proven that true."

"And just how—"

"You were jealous of Maro, and you were jealous of Pyotr, don't even deny it – nope, don't deny it! And you say you thrive in fear, which is true, sure, but you don't need fear to survive. You take other emotions. You told me that yourself. I know you said some crazy crap about _something_ only taking fear, and I don't know _what_ that's about – yes, I still remember when you said that! You don't need to tell me squat. But I'm pretty sure I can find loopholes in all the shit you spew."

Pitch looked at him oddly, then took his face into his hands and kissed him, nipping at his lips playfully. Jack actually giggled and let the man have his wicked way with him until, at last, Pitch murmured hotly, "You are…"

"Amazing? Sexy?"

"A perceptive little brat," Pitch corrected, swaying him slightly. "Shall we continue?"

There were only bedrooms up here, so they just went into the master room. They stayed by the door and looked around silently, Jack formulating his own vision of the sacred place.

"Anything?" Pitch murmured.

Jack nodded and told him to sit on the bed. Then he rested his staff by the door and splayed delicate fingers on the dust-free dresser. "Here. Drawers full of those clothes you have locked away in the attic. You're by the doors over there, letting the breeze hit you." He gave a funny half-smile. "The clothes look good on you. Nice colors."

Pitch chuckled. "What's on top of the dresser?"

"Picture frames," Jack hushed, turning to look at the empty wood. "Different shapes, ovals, squares, rectangles; the pictures are of us…and our friends."

"What friends?" Pitch inquired quite seriously.

"The ones we have over so often," Jack replied. "The ones you greet at the door, entertain in the den, feast with in the dining room. And these pictures are of funny moments. You're smiling in them." That was all he needed to say, and he moved to the opposite side of the room and pointed to a bare corner by the French doors. "There's a big desk in the attic. It would go there."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You're doing some sort of work there. Papers and stuff. Writing in that language of the stars. Maybe reading. You look peaceful." Jack glanced at the open doors and grinned. "I'd probably come in by the balcony and send your papers flying with wind just to make you mad."

"Why would you do that?"

"So I could make it up to you by…" His blue eyes trailed over to the bed, to Pitch who watched him with amusement, and he blushed furiously before spinning to the wardrobe. "Your special clothes would stay there. When you come home from whatever you've been doing, probably spreading not-too-scary nightmares—" Pitch snorted with disbelief, "—I'd help you remove your armor and put it away, even though you don't need any help."

He took tentative steps to the mirror on the far side of the wardrobe and stood in front of it, not really looking at his reflection just yet. "A-and you'd unwind and relax and I'd wait for you to get yourself comfortable and…haha, funny how the scenarios end with the bed."

"Hilarious," Pitch agreed dryly.

Jack laughed again. "Anyway, that's all I have for this room. And it's pretty stupid, because I know it's never going to happen."

"Nothing is set in stone."

His heart didn't flutter at that. "No, I know it's not going to happen."

"Why?"

"Because…" Jack choked on the words and cursed himself and the house. "Because in every scenario, I'm with you. I'm living in this house, and you actually give a rat's ass. You want me here, and I stay here, and I, I'm…" His voice died as he finally saw his reflection in the dust-free mirror.

_I'm so screwed,_ he thought, because dammit, his _eyes_ were shining with love. Love, for God's sake. He didn't hear Pitch move, but the man was suddenly hovering over his back. Jack shut his eyes, because he just couldn't let Pitch see them, couldn't let him see how they were glistening with foolish love that would never be returned.

"Help me," Pitch murmured in his ear. He guided Jack's hands to the hidden clasps of his armor, and together they removed the protective shell until it was just Pitch Black standing before him, slightly more vulnerable than before. The shade led him to the bed and sat with him, brushing a feather-like kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Well? How's the rest of this scenario go?"

Jack surged up enthusiastically and sealed their lips together, hands scrambling to pull away that black robe. The cloth slid from grey, broad shoulders, and Jack let his fingers skitter over lean muscles as Pitch carefully licked his way around in his mouth. Jack's frosty heart was pounding; he wondered if the man could hear it.

"Here," said the velvety voice, and the room tipped before Jack found himself on his back, staring up at warm eyes. Pitch tugged his hoodie over his silver head in one swift motion and started working on his belt buckle. Jack's breath came quick and he made work of the man's own pants.

A few moments later, they were staring hungrily at each other, completely bare. Jack's mouth suddenly felt very dry as he took in the other's body. Smooth grey skin; tight, lean muscles; faint scars that he had the sudden urge to trace with his fingers – or his tongue; shining eyes pleasantly trained on his own pale body, probably looking it over just as thoroughly as he. Pitch's member was hot against Jack's thigh as he lowered himself and kissed him. It was dizzying, and the jolts of pleasure that crawled their way up from his groin made him whimper and writhe under Pitch's touch.

"Shi…m'kay, _yes_, please…"

Pitch abandoned his mouth and worked his way down, pausing at his nipples to lavish them with wet attention until they were pert and red. He licked a hot stripe from there to the base of his flushed cock, and when he took the head into his mouth, that was when Jack gave a very guttural cry. Strong hands clamped down on his hips to prevent him from moving as that hot pressure continued.

Jack had spent "time" with spirits, but Pitch's heat was unparalleled. The frost spirit felt like his dick was melting, yet his nerves transmitted every pleasurable sensation to his brain. How could he not love this man, he wondered faintly. And how could Pitch continue to say he didn't love him when he did this? Because his mouth wasn't just sucking him off; it was caressing him intimately, coaxing him to oblivion teasingly, devotedly.

Jack felt himself on the edge just as Pitch pulled back with a very dirty _pop_. He pressed his fingers to Jack's mouth and ordered in a very deep, very used voice, "_Suck_."

Jack was unnervingly happy to oblige, and he made love to those lovely fingers with his mouth and tongue, eyes fluttering shut. He heard Pitch's erratic breathing and could only imagine the face he was making, but he kept on until Pitch slowly pulled his hand back. Jack nipped his fingertips playfully as they left his mouth, earning a kiss and pressure at his entrance.

He hissed as the slick digit slid in and stroked his walls. He hadn't done this since before he became a Guardian, and that before had been at least a decade prior. _When exactly was the last time I—_

The finger suddenly intruded deeply and curled up against something that made Jack moan and arch his back.

"Do not think of anything but me," Pitch ordered fiercely in his ear; he didn't sound harsh, but passionate, desperate to make sure he was the only thing on Jack's mind.

And when he struck that spot a second time, he was.

A second finger pushed in, pumping him, refusing to touch that spot again, and Jack kissed Pitch with frustration. A third finger intruded, and the stretch made his ass burn, but he forced himself to relax. The sensation wasn't new, just fresh. Still, it would probably hurt if Pitch was going to enter him on saliva alone.

"I forgot," Pitch said, sensing his worry. Jack felt a shadow snake past his head, and he followed it with his eyes as it disappeared through the cracks in the ceiling trapdoor in the corner of the room. Pitch held out his hand in the air, and something suddenly dropped into it. Jack stared at the round container as Pitch unscrewed it.

"Lube?" Jack breathed, keening as the fingers withdrew from him to dip into the jar.

"An old salve," Pitch replied, setting the jar on the nightstand and slicking himself up. "For injuries, though its potency in healing has long since expired. It will serve a new purpose now." He slid his oiled fingers into Jack once more, and Jack gave a delighted gasp. It was hotter than before. Pitch actually grinned and leaned in, exhaling softly on his face. "It feels nice?"

"Oooh, you…" Jack positively trembled.

"I'll take that as a yes." Pitch removed the digits and kissed him softly. Their lips moved with anticipation on both ends, and when the shade pulled back, his breath had quickened again. "Ready?"

Jack lifted his legs, wound them around the man's torso. "Please."

Pitch looked absolutely delighted at his eagerness, though the expression was only visible in the way his eyes lit up as he positioned himself and pushed in.

Torturous? Yes. Painful? To a certain extent. The burning sensation was not in heat, but in the stretch, and the first inch brought tears to Jack's eyes. He didn't mean to let that pained noise slip from his flushed lips, but he did, and Pitch froze, which made it worse. "N-no, don't! Keep – keep going, _please_!"

Pitch apologized lowly – and didn't that throw him for a loop – but kept going, bowing down. Jack sank his teeth into his neck, tasting iron. A good distracter as Pitch slid. There was a lot of him to take in, and Jack almost sighed in relief when he felt those hips come to rest against his ass.

"Alright?"

Jack licked away the blood soothingly and moved his hips. Pitch took that as confirmation; he slid out and pushed back in slowly, testing Jack's durability. When the frost spirit spread ice onto his back, he picked up the pace. Jack hooked his ankles and threaded his fingers through black hair, mouth falling open breathlessly.

If someone had told him long ago, when he watched Pitch be dragged through the air by his own creations of the night to his lair, that he would be in bed with him a few years later, he'd freeze them good and ship them to the Sahara to thaw out. But now, he had Pitch Black with him, _in_ him, making love…

No.

No, they were just fucking. This was a one-sided—

"Jack, please stop thinking," Pitch ordered breathlessly, so Jack did and focused on the fire that was pounding into him, monopolizing his body, his soul, his heart. Pitch took him into his hand and began to pump; just the touch of his calloused hand forced Jack's eyes closed, a familair sensation closing in like a wave rushing towards shore.

"Cl-close," he informed.

"Yes," Pitch grunted in his neck. A few more thrusts, and he started to pull out, but Jack tightened his grip with his legs.

"No…stay. In me."

Pitch raised his head, pupils blown wide; Jack saw something flash in that golden gaze, and then his throat closed up because he realized what that flash was.

He _saw it_.

Pitch's free hand came up; their fingers tangled together. Jack put frost onto those ashy digits, gaze never once straying from the twin solar eclipses. He was there, on the edge, and his mouth worked to get out words before he hit.

"I – I _love_ you."

He said it with all his being, and he _meant_ it with all his being. Pitch's pupils dilated; he shuddered and Jack found himself being filled with molten liquid. Jack came immediately, the grey hand on his cock still working to milk him. Pitch's hips kept moving until he was done; his head dropped onto Jack's slightly warm, sweaty shoulder, breath ghosting over his skin. Jack melted into the soft comforter, legs sliding away as Pitch collapsed his full weight on him.

Their chests were heaving, pushing against each other, but Jack was smiling. He saw their entwined hands out of the corner of his eye and knew that _this_ was how it should have been. How it could always be, if they found a way to break down the walls. He grimaced when he felt Pitch pull out, trailing semen with him. "Think the water still works here?"

"Always," Pitch murmured. He didn't sound tired; just…relaxed. He pointed to the door on the far side of the room closest to the French doors. "Bathroom. But," he stopped Jack from moving, "don't bother. Just stay here with me."

_With me._

They moved to lay their heads on the pillows; Jack couldn't stop smiling. He felt ridiculous, but satisfied. He had said _it_, and he had seen _it_ in Pitch's eyes, even if the guy was going to be stubborn and deny it. Or maybe Pitch wouldn't deny it, because he was observing their joined, iced hands with fond eyes. Jack curled into him, lazy curls of arousal winding around his abdomen as their flaccid members brushed together. "I love you," he said again, just because he could. He was delighted when Pitch didn't stiffen or tell him to keep his mouth shut.

Pitch pressed his lips to his forehead with a smile. "Alright, Jack. Say it if you must. Just know that I can never say it back."

"I'll make you, one day," Jack teased tiredly. Pitch slung a leg over his and pulled him even closer. "I'm going to keep trying."

"Surprisingly, I hope so."

"I love you," Jack replied to that, nestling into the heat the Nightmare King radiated. "Stop making me happy. I want to sleep."

"I don't know how I make you happy, you foolish boy, but I apparently can't promise to stop. Sleep."

So Jack kissed Pitch and shut his eyes, welcoming the darkness.

* * *

The moonlight was sharp and clear when Jack stirred late in the night. He inhaled through his nose as he shifted and winced. His rear felt dirty and sore, but it wasn't a deep, penetrating pain like his first time bottoming to a woodland spirit in the first decade he had become Jack Frost. In any case, this soreness was pleasant, a reminder of—

Jack rolled over frantically to the empty spot of the bed, but relaxed when he felt it. It was cooling down, but warmth still lingered, meaning Pitch couldn't have gone far. The fluttering of the French doors' curtains made him look up, and he saw Pitch leaning against the door frame, tall and relaxed in his dark robe. He was looking up at the moon. When he heard Jack sit up, he turned.

Aside from the robe which started to slide precariously from his shoulders, he was naked.

Jack's mouth was _very_ dry. Somehow, he managed to work out a question.

"Come back to bed?"

A very stupid question, if he wanted to think about it, which he didn't. Those were the very words that had made Pitch look at him with disgust in North's Workshop after the attack. The fear of rejection slammed into him, and he stilled, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

Pitch actually chuckled and crossed to him, descending on him in all his nude glory and stealing a sweet kiss. "Jack. I can sense your feelings. I can taste them. What happened to not tiptoeing around with words?"

"Were you trying to make me jealous by giving the Man in the Moon a show?" Jack countered playfully, immediately feeling better.

Pitch made a face. "That's a show we could all do without." He kissed him again and lay with him, enveloping him with part of his black robe. "Go back to sleep. We have business to attend to in the morning."

Jack stroked his warm side pleadingly. "You're not still thinking of going, are you?" Pitch was quiet. "Please, don't go. For me."

Pitch pulled him closer so they were chest to chest, legs tangled, arms around each other, a silver head tucked beneath a grey chin. "That's a low blow."

"Not really. It would only be low if you loved me."

"That's not true."

Jack knew it wasn't. Still, he had hoped. "Stay."

"I'm here," Pitch sighed absentmindedly.

"Tomorrow. Stay. Promise."

"I can't."

"Promise."

Jack could hear the sounds of the night in the silence that spanned in his ears as he waited for Pitch to answer. At last, he heard it, quietly spoken, but very sincere.

"I promise to stay with you tomorrow." He punctuated it by tilting Jack's head upward and giving him a gentle goodnight kiss.

As he burrowed himself in the warmth, Jack Frost smiled in the darkness disturbed by moonlight, because he believed in Pitch Black.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'll tell you a secret. I hate writing both love scenes and fight scenes. They're far more tedious and require more thinking power than anything else.

Methinks the proverbial dookie will hit the fan next chapter.


	16. Rip Asunder

**Rip Asunder**

Silence was a teller of all tales. Jack had figured that out long ago. Even in silence, the air could tell him many things; he was, if he thought about being clichéd, in tune with it all. Which was why, when he awoke to an empty bed, he could tell that the house was empty too. He lay there for a moment, dazed, and closed his eyes, trying to feel out his surroundings.

The space beside him was cool, but that was only due to his own body temperature. If he had to guess, Pitch had only rolled out of bed half an hour ago. Had vacated the entire premises about fifteen minutes ago. Jack slowly opened his eyes and winced at the hostile sunlight which assaulted his vision. The curtains were pushed back, double doors open, and a surprisingly warm mountain breeze was circulating through.

Probably time to get up.

Jack looked down blushingly and wondered how Pitch could have just let him sleep exposed like this. Then again, what was he worried about? Who would dare enter the Nightmare King's house, save him? Who would ever see him like this, save Pitch Black? Jack lay laxly and rolled to the edge of the bed, one hand fishing around on the floor for his clothes. When he snagged them, he dressed and stood, stretching.

_Ouch._

He crumbled back onto the smooth comforter, whining in protest of his _back_'s protest. God _damn_, that hurt! But, as Jack writhed lazily on the bed, a strange smile worked its way onto his face. This pain…it was good. Pitch had caused it with good intentions, and Jack welcomed every bit of it, unpleasant as it was. When he was done complaining to the empty house, he stood up again – wincing – and took a good look around.

A black cloth lay folded on the dresser. Jack grabbed his staff as he went to it and was surprised to find an elegant, creamy sheet of paper lying on the bundle; a note.

_'I left you something on the dresser so you don't panic while I'm not there. Come to the lair as soon as you're awake, and don't be stupid enough to forget your staff. Also, you drool while you sleep, which is utterly disgusting. Yet I still stayed in bed ten minutes longer than I should have. That should tell you a great deal.'_

Jack gasped playfully to no one. He most certainly did _not_ drool. Pitch had to be lying. His heart was warmed as he read over the last two sentences. It certainly did tell him a great deal. He unfolded the black cloth and immediately buried his nose in it when he realized it was Pitch's robe. The familiar scents massaged his senses, bringing him about to a giddy revelation: he had Pitch Black as his own.

Granted, Pitch was too proud to admit it, but Jack had told him he loved him last night and hadn't been rejected. In fact, Pitch had stayed with him.

_I'll make you say those words,_ Jack vowed happily, wrapping the comfort cloth around him and bouncing down the hall to the guest bedroom, because he was in love, and he loved love. There were no dust bunnies to threaten him as he slid under the bed and waltzed down cobblestone steps; he made a mental note to ask Pitch where exactly in north-west England the house was located. He'd love to take a walk amongst the locals with him, maybe get a few souvenirs, he'd never really brought back souvenirs after traipsing around the world…

He knew something was wrong the moment he opened that door; his throat closed up, his breath fell short, his staff glowed in response to fear, that clawing, all-consuming fear that made him fall back against the door which immediately shut, refused to let him return to his happy delusion of a house in which the sun streamed and all was right and love was life—

The arrowhead was gone. The Fearlings were back.

Jack flew from that tunnel, faster than he thought he could ever manage – and was immediately clotheslined by a giant, furry white arm. He hit the ground, winded, croaking words that would never be comprehensible, struggling to see past the pain and tears which clouded his eyes. Suddenly, the tears swelled and spilled, and he could see; he immediately wished he couldn't.

The shade – _shit_, he was too emotionally invested in this to think clearly now, he knew, but didn't care – would not so much as look at him as he struggled to get his name out. And when Pitch did turn, not because Jack called him, but because he felt like it, his eyebrows went up with something akin to cold amusement.

"Well." The drawl was lovely, a purr, a balm and a curse to Jack's ears. "I didn't expect him to come running that quickly."

"You're sure that thing you made will hold him?"

That was Faust, if Jack ever knew it. He sounded eager, like he could only think about one subject and Jack was the afterthought. Probably couldn't wait to get his hands on the black power, Jack realized, and he came to the conclusion also that whatever deal Faust wanted to strike with Pitch certainly wasn't going down here.

He started cussing when a grunting ape-beast caught him by his hoodie and the black robe he still wore and dragged him upstairs.

"Quite the mouth," Faust said from off in the darkness.

"Oh, yes," Pitch chortled, watching Jack's every involuntary movement. "I've had that mouth too, so I know of its potential."

Jack's stomach heaved. He wanted to scream. Wanted to go down there and punch the traitor's lights out, then kiss him back awake, because this _couldn't_ be—

"You're still clinging to that delusion?" Pitch whispered, suddenly walking alongside him as he was dragged. "How persistent you are."

"What are you doing?" Jack managed to say as he was thrown into a shallow cave. He lunged for the entrance, but the white beast roared, putting him in his place long enough for Pitch to flick his lovely hand and send blacker-than-night bars streaming across the escape route. Jack blasted them angrily with ice, tried to shatter them with frigid lightening, but every drop of power that dripped from his staff was useless. He was not going to get out of here.

Horrified, he stepped back, eyes locked on that slender face. At first, he thought – prayed – that Pitch had been possessed, had gone mad, but the longer he looked, the clearer the cold, calculating reason became in those beautiful orbs, and the sicker he felt.

"_Why?_"

Pitch Black, Boogeyman, Nightmare King, shrugged. "Because I grow weary of this game. Faust's request is actually quite reasonable, when I turn it over in my mind, and it's a small price to pay to be rid of the Guardians and you."

It cut Jack to the quick, that "and you". He – _he_ wasn't worthy to be considered by enemies, or lovers…but this man wasn't the latter. He had taken a leap back to the former.

Miraculously, Jack found enough love stirring in his heart to come forward and clutch the bars of the condemning cage. "Please, don't go." His lips trembled, but his voice was surprisingly steady. "You…you promised me." Ah, there went his voice. It pitched high, marred by emotions and salt as the tears came again. "You said you wouldn't. I saw—I _believed!_"

Pitch stared unblinkingly at him, and then a bit of remembrance wandered into his gaze. "Oh. I recall now. I said I'd stay by you. Wouldn't leave, yes?" His lips suddenly twisted into a malicious grin. "Guess I lied."

"T-traitor…?" Jack breathed uncertainly.

"What's to betray?" Pitch shrugged. "I hold no loyalty to any of you. I came to the Guardians because we had a similar problem. Now I've embraced my problem," and Faust made a quiet protest at the insult, "and I'm moving on. Don't worry, it's of no consequence to you. But you'll have to sit there for a bit while I go make a business deal."

Jack stared. His esophagus had shut down. And he hadn't meant that Pitch was a traitor to the Guardians. He had meant Pitch was a traitor to him.

"Can we please go?" Faust requested from somewhere on high; probably waiting by a portal.

"No, no," Pitch said, stepping forward, leering. "I want to see and taste this. It's beautiful, really."

Jack's throat started working again. Not in his favor, though. All that came out were shallow breaths. He could _feel_ it, the shock, the disbelief, then the gut-wrenching sorrow that came with the sudden acceptance that Pitch was serious. He was going to leave Jack, because he didn't care for Jack. He had talked of Jack like he was inconsequential, had spoken of his very mouth as though it were another pretty tool he used to _suck_—

Jack turned aside and dry-heaved. All that came out was snowflakes and clear saliva.

Pitch leaned in and breathed.

"You're still as sick as ever," Faust murmured.

"Says the man who has been laying waste to the lives of countless spirits," Pitch countered playfully, at last going away to leave. The giant ape stay put.

"For the sake of my research," Faust protested, quite serious, as though he believed that death was the only result to observe in his experiments. "Now, about what I'd like to discuss…"

The business-like tones grew dimmer as they passed through a dim portal and left Jack to wallow in self-hatred.

* * *

He was never very good with time. That is to say, he could keep track of it, but he didn't like it. As a free spirit, he preferred to be unbound by all markers. Except love. This one exception, he had told himself long ago, would bind him, and he wouldn't mind, because he was sure it would consume his heart and soul in a wonderful way.

Jack Frost had let it bind him. And it had broken him in return.

But time…yeah, time. He wasn't good at it. Didn't know how long he had been lying like a damsel in distress in this god-forsaken cage, crying his eyes out until his face felt swollen and he was physically tired. Jack slunk forward again to rattle the bars of his prison half-heartedly. The giant white ape – he didn't know what else to call it, although it certainly wasn't a normal primate – stirred disinterestedly at his post, then gave a yawn and scratched itself.

Sniffling, the worn frost spirit wrapped his arms around his frame and realized he still wore the black robe Pitch had given him. That goddamn robe. He yanked it off and held it before him with disgust, ice leaking onto the cloth from where he held it. This _thing_ belonged to that _man_, and he had put it on this morning as though it were…

His livid shriek didn't even cause the ape to stir again. Jack dropped the now completely frozen robe, raising his foot to shatter it. But then he hesitated and put his foot down. He was slowly coming out of his sorrowful daze. His tears were spent. His head was clearing with a plan, his heart clouding with fury. He scolded himself as he began to form a snowball in one hand, digging in his pocket with the other. He pulled out the lovely icy communicator North had gifted him with and squeezed it, pushing as much urgency into it as possible. It heated up, and he knew the distress signal was sent when it cooled. He waited, but the snowflake did not heat up again.

The others, for some reason, hadn't received his message.

No matter. He already had plan B in his hand. He lobbed the snowball harshly through the bars at the ape; with truer aim than an archer, it struck the beast square in the nose, eliciting a surprised howl. Jack laughed tauntingly (it felt so forced in his heavy heart), and the ape roared and charged him. Jack leapt aside hopefully as it crashed into the bars, but the restrictors hardly buckled. Jack was so distractedly disappointed that he couldn't get out of the way fast enough as a meaty paw slipped through and snagged his wrist.

He screeched as the ape squeezed, the pain all too real and familiar. His magic lashed out, freezing the violent hand and forcing it to withdraw. Jack scrambled back so the thing couldn't reach him again, wincing as the thing roared angrily. This wasn't getting him anywhere. He wasn't going anywhere.

_C'mon, man,_ he demanded harshly of himself, fisting the damning black robe in his frigid hands and unfreezing it. _You've gotta get out of here so you can kill him._

Because he was pissed. And it hurt. His heart was…probably not even a heart as much as it was a broken piece of china, because that was how it felt. Broken. And he seriously wanted to kill that bastard.

Was it wrong that he still loved him?

_Probably,_ he thought bitterly, dragging the fabric through his hands. His fingers hit a bump, and he inhaled sharply, quickly digging around until he clasped a precious piece of metal and pulled it out to look it over in the provided light.

The golden arrowhead.

Jack kissed it flightily and something in the bottom of his heart, the part which still loved the Nightmare King, flared hopefully. It swore to high heaven that the arrowhead had been left there on purpose.

Jack was hesitant to believe it, so instead he just focused on formulating a plan. As soon as he neared the shadow bars, he saw them quiver and almost bend away from him. He'd have flown out immediately were it not for the ape which had recovered from the ice and was rounding on him. He hid the arrowhead in his pocket and shrank back as the thing came forward and lay down next to the entrance.

Nowhere for Jack to go. However, perhaps another could take his place.

Jack spread a light frost on the floor and traced a hasty outline of a human figure. Then he clasped the magic in his soul and pulled. From the thin layer rose a sloppily made frost golem. Jack continuously glanced at the ape to make sure its eyes were turned away as he began shaving off unneeded frost, shaping the creation to his image. He forced color onto the clothes, a little less on the skin, and there stood a wintery copy of himself. Then, with trembling fingers, he carefully folded Pitch's black robe and shoved it in his hood.

Finally, he picked up his staff, and crouched.

_Three. Two. One._

He sent his false image shooting out of the bars with a mad cackle. It reached out and froze the tip of the ape's nose before leaping far back from its furious swing and racing away. The beast gave chase, and Jack moved to the bars, pulling out the arrowhead. His heart _sang_ when the darkness shriveled up and granted him passage. He flew out as fast as he could, but the joyous distraction caused his frost golem to burst into snow.

It took the ape a whole second to realize what had happened before it was clambering up the stairways and archways with remarkably frightening speed. Jack shouldn't have paused to shoot icy lightening at it. It was fast. It dodged, made a tremendous leap, and seized Jack's leg.

_Always,_ Jack thought with frantic exasperation as he fell through the air with the white thing attached to him. The ape landed, cracking the floor, and swung Jack into a pillar. Thankfully, it let go, leaving the stunned frost spirit to crumple peacefully to the ground and try to get his bearings.

Or not get his bearings, because the ape charged again.

A piercing shriek split the air. In a flurry of black feathers and razor-sharp talons, Jack saw a tengu swoop down and promptly blind the ape, striking its eyes from its head and leaving more than a few deep scores on its back before darting away.

"Maro!" Jack cried with relief, even as the birdman made a second pass to bloody the white fur. Then a third. And a fourth. Jack didn't understand why he was doing that until he noticed how attuned Maro was to the ape's movements. After the sixth pass, its arms flew open and it roared, and Jack knew, as Maro moved in for the kill, that it had all been to make it drop its guard.

The talons flashed once in the dim light. Jack looked away as the ape slumped over, throat cut and gushing. It gave a dying gurgle, shuddered once, and lay still. Maro alighted by Jack and knelt, a rough hand reaching out to seize his shoulder. Despite being jostled violently, Jack was stunned by the genuine worry that swam in Maro's bright brown eyes, and he felt compelled to pat his arm reassuringly. "I'm okay."

"Oh. Good." Suddenly gruff and awkward, Maro stood and scuffed the ground with his shiny black shoes. "What are you smiling at, you brat? Stop it!"

Jack didn't. He couldn't. "You care."

"Go ahead and swim in your delusions. Drown, why don't you."

"Aw. Then why'd you come?"

"You asked me to come back. I just happened to return a little sooner than I'd expected."

"Okay, use that excuse." Jack stepped closer teasingly. "It's alright, if you care about me."

"I don't," Maro spat, though he didn't move. "I just—"

"Jack!"

They both looked up with surprise as the Guardians descended on them. North and Bunny landed by the ape and glanced over it while Sandy and Tooth came up; Tooth noted Maro's closeness, his claws dripping with red, and immediately had one of her thin swords at his neck, feathers ruffled in a brilliant show of fierceness. "If you've hurt him, tengu, you'll answer to me, I swear by my wings."

Maro's teeth bared, but Jack stepped between them, feeling better than before. "No, Tooth, he saved me. But I'm glad to see you guys. You could've just replied to my message."

Sandy threw up a question mark.

Jack frowned and pulled out his snowflake communicator. "I tried calling…did none of yours go off?"

They all shook their heads, and Bunny growled, "So what's this gotta do with _him?_" His ears were flat against his skull in hostility as he glared daggers at the wary Maro.

"He saved me," Jack said again, very patiently pushing Tooth's sword aside. "This is the tengu I was talking about, Maro. But that's not important. How did you guys know I was here?"

"We had help," North admitted uncomfortably. He stepped aside, and Jack saw who was also there for the first time. "He came to tell us."

Jack looked away from Irdu Lili's rust red eyes. "Oh, yeah. Pitch's spy."

Maro snorted disgustedly. "That explains why those blasted earth spirits were able to discover our movements constantly."

Irdu shrugged gleefully. "Don't judge me. Look at yourself, coming to poor Frost's rescue. Ever the romantic, eh, Maro?"

Jack was the only one who saw Maro's angry blush, and was definitely the only one who mirrored it. "A-anyway," he spluttered, "we have to go after Pitch. He's gone off with Faust to negotiate." The hurt and anger returned to his heart, and he literally scratched the place on his chest, pointedly ignoring Tooth's wide-eyed, sympathetic stare. "Guess he can't keep his promises."

"But he said," North started.

Bunny cut him off. "Knew it was only a matter of time. Don't care how much you wanted to be friends with the guy, Jack. He was bad news, as usual."

"Yeah," Jack murmured. "You're right." He slipped his snowflake back in his pocket, but felt the arrowhead. And he remembered. "Actually, I take that back."

"Any idea where he went?" Tooth asked. "He gave Fuinor and Pyotr the slip, even managed to skirt past my own fairies. We're blind."

"No idea, sorry."

Irdu spoke up. "I suppose this is the part where I shed light on your pathetic minds." They all looked to him eagerly and distrustfully. "Oh, don't worry, I take my orders from Gowdie. Since she seems so inclined to help Pitch and keep him out of trouble, I'm obliged to tell you where he went. Germany, by the way. Knittlingen."

"Why there?" Jack asked.

"Faust's home town," Bunny grumbled, stomping his foot. A tunnel dropped open. "Must hold some significance to that stupid alchemist, which is why he wants to do business there. Let's go."

"Wait."

They all paused at Maro's quiet request. "We're in big hurry," North declared.

"Yes," Maro said, "but you're…" He looked at Jack and something in his gaze shifted. Jack swallowed nervously because that look was a little lovestruck, if he wasn't mistaken. He prayed he was. "You're being lied to."

Irdu rolled his eyes and started a very lazy protest, but Jack held up a silencing hand and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Faust has decoys in Knittlingen," Maro said with more confidence, glaring at Irdu. "The incubus's tip would be viable, if I didn't know for a fact that he is very close to Faust, like myself. He knows where he truly is, as do I."

Jack seized him by the arms with a wide grin. "So you'll tell us?" He was a little worried at the fond light in Maro's eyes, but right now, he needed to focus on getting to Pitch.

"He's in Moscow." At North's angry gasp, he added, "He was confident enough to set it up in one of your domains, that he might not be caught."

"To Russia we go!" Jack sang. "Modify your tunnel, Bunny!"

Bunny did so, and Tooth said sweetly to Irdu, "We'll deal with you later."

North had his snow globe out and was shaking it violently. "He dares – _dares_ to conduct this dark business in my country? They will both have to answer to me!"

Irdu gave them another eyeroll and took off, calling, "Never let it be said that I didn't try to steer you wrong."

They properly ignored him. North vanished through his portal; Bunny and Tooth dropping down the new tunnel. Sandy motioned for Jack to hurry, but the frost spirit turned to Maro and tugged him along. "You're coming with us."

"No," Maro refused, that fond look in his eyes thankfully dying. "I've done enough to endanger myself."

"Too bad," Jack replied, and he dragged the flustered birdman into the darkness.

* * *

"What's the plan again?" Jack asked from his perch on the residential rooftop. The Guardians were unlikely to be seen, as it was mostly adults out at this time of night, hardly any children. However, Maro had to crouch, because he was very visible to the humans, and the less attention they drew to themselves, the better. "I don't think we ever discussed a plan."

"Find them," North said simply. "Bring them in."

"Right," Jack agreed a little dully, feeling the warmth of Pitch's cloak seeping through his hood. "Maro, you got a specific location?"

As the tengu shook his head mutely, Tooth returned with her mini fairies. "I've found them. A public park, but there are lots of people around."

Pitch's battle plan was completely blown to bits. Fuinor, Admon, and Pyotr were out of the picture, and the fact that Pitch wasn't actually on their side anymore was a big problem.

"What about the guards?" Jack asked as they moved silently through the air. "Didn't Pitch say there would be guards who were specifically designed to target us?"

"We'll worry about that later," Bunny said. They landed at the appropriate place and saw the park. Streetlamps were lit, humans milling about, and there, on a bench, sat Pitch and Faust. The Guardians were discussing strategy in low tones, but Jack hardly listened, eyes only for the Boogeyman.

He looked regal as always in his armor, and he smiled as he talked quietly with Faust. What they discussed, Jack had no idea, but he didn't like how eager Pitch looked for this deal.

He heard sand rustle by his ear and watched as Sandy began to spread his golden wisps outward. One by one, the populous in the park began to wander away, their minds lightly touched by drowsy suggestions that their presence was required elsewhere. Pitch and Faust stopped talking after a minute, noticing the irregular happening, and Pitch's face contorted with anger and surprise. He leapt from the bench, black scythe forming in his elegant hand, and Faust's hands crackled with a violent, violet light that Jack did not want to get near anytime soon.

One of Tooth's fairies came back to chirp in her ear, and she nodded, face set in grim seriousness. "We're clear. Let's go."

Jack's heart set into a quick rhythm like the drums of war as he watched his fellow Guardians surge ahead of him. He threw out an arm and stopped Maro before he could go too. "No. You get out of here. You'll be in enough trouble, and I'd like to keep it to a minimum. Will you come before your king for us and tell him what's happened?"

Maro hesitated, before turning, spreading his wings. "I will, kid. Good luck, Frost."

They parted in opposite directions. Jack's palms were sweating as he caught Pitch's attention. The shade looked livid, but it was all wrong. That anger wasn't directed at Jack, for some reason. Jack didn't know how he could tell, but it struck him that way. Pitch was not angry at him.

Feelings didn't help right now. He dove to the side as Faust launched a lazy stream of black magic his way. His stomach actually turned; he could feel the evil radiating from the blast. He alighted on the fountain in the middle of the park as the Guardians circled warily.

"Did you…?" Faust started warily.

"Not on your life," Pitch snarled back, swinging his scythe fiercely when Tooth darted too close.

"You swore to keep your shadows from him!" Bunny called.

"I lied," Pitch deadpanned. "Leave before you get hurt."

"No, let them stay," Faust said suddenly. His arms went back, and Jack slipped further behind the safety of the statue, knowing something bad was about to come. "I want them to see this."

His arms lobbed forward, and Jack ducked.

He didn't know what happened, but he heard the alarmed shouts of his friends and felt pure evil singe his arms as the wave of power swept across the clearing. He clutched his side where a particularly nasty burn cropped up, and put out the violet flames. What kind of magic was this? He heard the Guardians scattering, calling out to one another, and knew that Faust was probably distracted.

One deep breath later, he was streaking for the alchemist. His first blast of ice struck Faust square in the chest, making him stumble. Jack ducked as Pitch actually swung at him – _I'm getting to you, you bastard, just you wait!_ – and flipped, slamming his feet into Faust's gut, knocking him back into the bench. Jack exhaled the breath he had been holding and walked calmly up to the man, placing the butt of his staff at his throat. He was well aware of Pitch standing a few meters away, and could hear his friends cheering as they regrouped and advanced.

"Looks like your deal's gone south," Jack chuckled, taking in Faust's dazed face. He looked in his eyes and his blood suddenly curdled. Those were not the eyes of a stunned man.

A wrinkled hand shot out and gripped the base of the staff. Jack tried to jerk it away, but the grip was iron. Violet fire began to slink up the staff, very slowly, very painfully.

Jack could feel it burning his soul, and howled.

Pain was a tricky thing. It made him hear strange noises. For instance, behind him, he could hear a shrill shriek that sounded suspiciously like Maro. But he knew Maro couldn't be here. He had sent him away, and he knew the birdman wouldn't return. There was also a roar. Not a lion's, but it was familiar and dangerous.

Jack couldn't breathe. He couldn't let go and he couldn't breathe. Something in this magic was binding him to the staff, refusing to let him go, no matter how much he wanted to. His name, people were shouting his name, shouting for him to let go.

His eyes were open, but he couldn't see. He could see white, associated with the blinding pain splitting his skull, and his back was bent unnaturally. His hand suffered the worst. It was gripping the flaming staff; it was in the line of fire; it was _burning._

He screeched.

However, just as he thought his head was about to fall off – he wanted it to fall off, wanted to cut it off with one of North's sabers if he had to – something else fell from his hood. And then he fell.

Rather, his stomach did, though he was quite sure he was falling too. The white lapsed into blissful darkness and warmth enveloped him. He _was_ falling, and arms caught him. Arms he was far too familiar with and had missed greatly, though he had been sleeping in them hours earlier.

Well, a lot had happened in those hours, and he was supposed to be mad at the owner of those arms. That didn't stop him from curling into them and exhaling with quiet relief.

"Oh, Jack."

Jack's laugh was weak, but _there_, just like Pitch Black.


	17. From the Depths of Darkness

**From the Depths of Darkness**

The voice – the things Jack would do to bask in that voice and rip it from the throat it came from.

"You are the most idiotic…and most wonderful creature I have ever met."

"Put me down," Jack whispered, his voice rising slowly to a shriek. "Put me _down!_"

He started kicking violently until the shade complied as gently as possible. Jack slapped those warm hands away and stumbled into a brick wall, clinging to it to keep himself upright. His left hand was burning, though there were no flames. He ignored it. He was elated to feel the Boogeyman's presence, but he was furious with the goddamn liar, and rightfully so.

"Jack—"

"Traitor," the frost spirit spat; he'd never mustered up so much venom before in his life. "You…you said…" He recalled what Pitch had said. "About me…you said things to…about my mouth…"

"Please." The voice was hoarse, pained. "Hate me if you must, but your friends are in danger."

"Why should you give a flying fuck?" Jack also decided that he needed to work on his responses. He was trembling, enraged. Pitch _had_ betrayed him, had called him a tool and—

"_No!_"

The shocked gasp was accompanied by hands on his face, lips pressed to his forehead. "Jack, I – no, please, focus. If something happens to them, you will never forgive me."

"Who says I'd consider forgiving you now?"

Jack didn't like how his heart felt like it was going to explode, but he couldn't—

A strangled cry flew from his mouth as Pitch knocked his staff from his hand and grabbed his fingers. "Jack, ice it. _Now._"

Jack mindlessly scrambled to do so, putting a thick layer over his skin and, consequently, over Pitch's. The cool relief was immediate and wonderful, healing the phantom burning of Faust's magic. It cleared his head, but also his ears, because he could hear the sounds of battle in the park. He had to go, had to—

"Stop," Pitch ordered, shoving him against the wall. "You are done fighting. I didn't want any of you here."

Jack stopped him before he could teleport. "What are you going to do?"

The shade smiled grimly. "I want to make it very clear to Faust that I had no intention of giving him anything." And he was gone.

Jack rested against the wall tremblingly, sucking in deep, calming breaths. Surely Pitch didn't expect him to just wait here while the rest of his friends engaged in combat, did he? Surely he didn't think Jack would just trust him like that after what he had done. Jack shook his head and rose up from the alleyway, alighting on the rooftop to look down at the battle zone. Maybe, if the Guardians would back Pitch up, everything would be just…

Jack knew immediately that Pitch wouldn't receive any backup whatsoever.

Tooth was engaged on high in a fierce aerial battle with a vicious-looking tengu. That explained the cry that had sounded like Maro. Her swords flashed beneath the stars and lamplights as she scored shallow hits along the birdman's thick arms, but even though the blood began to run down the pale appendages in thin rivulets, he didn't appear to be tired or even aware of his wounds. If anything, his eyes grew brighter with each cut received, and he continued to advance on Tooth, pushing her higher and higher into the air.

Sandy was hard pressed to defend himself from the crackling streaks of green lightening shooting from the well-manicured fingernails of a pretty young woman. Jack recognized her from that trio of witches he had seen in Massachusetts, and later in Pitch's lair. Her curly red hair flared out behind her, a maniacal grin stretched across her face. Her eyes lit up every time she destroyed one of Sandy's golden projections with her wicked energy. Sandy, mouth set in a determined line, continued to throw up wall after wall of dream sand, setting lions and hounds on the witch. They were continuously destroyed, and he was continuously floating back.

North had originally been fighting Faust, sabers flashing as he blocked every violet blast of singeing magic sent his way. However, he had to rush to Bunny's aid when the Pooka called. Bunny's stone egg warriors, the ones he had called forth mere moments ago, were all smashed to pieces, and a great white ape roared challengingly, inviting any opponent. This creature was far larger than any of the ones Jack had ever seen, leading him to believe with a horrified chill that _this_ one was an _adult_, the others mere _children_.

Jack's eyes snapped to Faust when the alchemist suddenly leapt back. Pitch had cropped up, swinging his scythe determinedly. Faust looked a little shocked before shrugging with resigned acceptance. "Of course you would."

"You honestly believed I would share?" Pitch scoffed. Belief? That was all too familiar to Jack.

"I was pleased that you came along," Faust said. "Maybe I did believe for a minute. No matter." Darkness pooled under his feet, similar to Pitch's, and he shot off down a pathway. Pitch gave chase, and Jack immediately went after them. He regretted leaving his friends behind, but he knew their strengths, knew what they could do. They would be fine.

The chase took him to a public pond, one he was familiar with. He usually froze it well in the winter, providing a skating rink for the local children. Now Faust was hovering over its surface, as was Pitch. Jack waited in the shadows; Pitch had said he shouldn't fight. Well, he wasn't. Not yet.

"You should have just given me what I asked for," Faust said gravely.

"You should have taken a hint," Pitch replied smoothly. His lips were quirked, as though he found Faust's defiance hilarious. "I said I wasn't interested in bestowing darkness upon any of you fools. What made you think you were any different from the rest?"

"You used to lend others your shadows. I remember. A long time ago, you used to!"

"Welcome to the now." That was all Pitch offered before slinging a hoard of Fearlings at the alchemist.

Faust made a startled noise and had to start setting up his own wall of magic to defend himself. While he was occupied, Jack crept from his hiding place. Pitch noticed him and immediately voiced his displeasure.

"Get _back!_"

The distraction was a mistake. Faust dispersed the Fearlings and managed to shoot a black shard back at Pitch. Jack's hand was quick, bringing up his staff and blasting the projectile to icy bits. Faust looked at him sharply. "Oh. You."

Jack huffed angrily. "Yeah, _me_, asshat. You picked the wrong—"

He was promptly blown away by a gust of wind, smacking into a tree and falling. "I have no time for you, boy," Faust said. "Let the adults do their business."

Jack coughed and glanced up at Pitch, but the shade wasn't looking at him. That was smart, Jack realized. If Pitch showed any concern for him – _but why would he? He doesn't care, he left, he lied, the bastard_ – it would be bad for both of them. Jack crawled forward to the edge of the pond, then suddenly felt a shiver run through him.

The air was darkening.

He could feel it. Beneath the lamplights, he felt a heavy force moving through, condensing into the two beings who hovered high above the water. They were gearing up for a massive attack, probably to end this without engaging in a meaningless battle. Jack clutched his staff and moved to a crouch, ready to fly if things got ugly. Oh, but who was he kidding? This was going to get very ugly.

The attack happened before he could blink.

Neither of those men wanted to waste any time. One moment, they were staring at each other in a deadlock; the next, their arms were out and a visible charge was flying through the air towards each of them. The respective charges completely missed each other and continued on to slam into the opposing castors. Jack shouted and plunged his hand into the water, pushing his magic out as fast as he could.

The surface of the pond froze instantly, catching the bodies which fell through the air.

He forgot that his all-consuming fury for the Nightmare King and was at his side in an instant, frantically clutching the folds of his robe. "Pitch, please, wake up, open your—"

"Oh, stop it." Jack's hands were pushed away. "I'm fine, you idiot."

Jack sat back, sheepishly subdued. Pitch really did look absolutely fine, skin unburned, golden eyes bright with annoyance. "S-sorry. I just…"

Warm hands enveloped his, and Pitch pressed his forehead to Jack's. "I know." Then he chuckled. Jack eyed him warily.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Jack. That little pinch of darkness couldn't hurt me." He gave him a chaste kiss. "Really."

Jack pulled out of his reach. "We seriously need to talk when we get home."

"Where is home?"

The frost spirit did not know what compelled the words from his lips. "It used to be my pond. Then, for a while, it was the Workshop because we always met there. Now it's wherever you are." He said it without hesitation, and then cackled cruelly when Pitch stared at him at a loss for words. "Wow, your face." He could punch that face. And kiss it. He did the latter, though his discontent was rolling off him in waves.

Pitch frowned sadly as he picked up on the emotions. "I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything. We have to go back. Your friends—"

A low, muffled chuckle echoed in the clearing. It was dark, and it was amused, and it made Jack's stomach churn sickeningly. Their heads swiveled to the form lying facedown on the ice. Jack could see Faust's back shuddering with each breath he drew to laugh. Pitch's arm was already around Jack's shoulder, pulling him in protectively.

"That was absolutely delicious."

Something was trickling down from the top of Jack's head all the way down to his heart.

"Never had a taste of darkness so pure."

The sensation was familiar, an emotional one, but Jack couldn't put his finger on it.

"You've been holding out on the world, Pitch Black."

Ah, yes. Fear.

Faust slowly got to his feet, each movement strong, assured, healthy. When he raised his head and looked at them, he grinned and stroked his white beard. "I could do with a bit more, actually."

"How," Pitch started, for once not concealing his shock before the enemy.

"Technicalities, old friend," Faust said, making a fist with one hand. "But I'm sure you know when you see it." He kissed his fist and held it out.

All Jack could see were a few rings scattered on those old, wrinkly fingers, and they meant nothing to him. It just looked like the old man was trying to be cool. However, Pitch became as rigid as a board, and his fingers dug into Jack's shoulder bruisingly. He was _trembling_.

Later, Jack would reflect back and realize that he should have done something. After all, his entire body was screaming in warning, and the fact that Pitch was actually frightened should have been a clue.

But he was not to blame for sitting there, waiting.

The first lights began to flicker in the air before Faust. A circle suddenly shimmered before his old body, and the lights began to draw in the middle. The sight suddenly disappeared from Jack's vision as Pitch pushed him away with his shadows, trying to get him off the pond. Before Jack even hit the edge, an invisible force stopped him and yanked him down onto his belly.

"No," Faust cooed. "I want him to watch."

Pitch gave a strangled cry.

Jack's breath hitched and he looked up. The circle was now filled by a six-pointed star, with more detailed, foreign symbols filling in the gaps. There were complicated patterns dancing around the ring, and the burning lights began to burn brighter. Blue eyes slid over to Pitch and widened.

The Nightmare King was kneeling, tall and stiff, chest moving in quick, short bursts as though he were choking. Whatever that symbol was, it was making quick work.

Jack glimpsed one ring on Faust's middle finger glow brightly before the alchemist opened his hand and said something gleefully in another language.

The light exploded.

The air roared and Pitch's head snapped back, arms thrown wide, chest expanded as though he were being drawn into the ring. Jack thought, as he screeched in horror, that Pitch actually was being pulled in, because masses of writhing shadows were flying from his body towards the great fiery light. However, it was Pitch's own evils, the darkness which made up his very being, which were being stripped from him. Jack vaguely heard alarmed voices just behind him, but his mind and heart would not allow in the relief which accompanied the knowledge that his friends were alright. He only had eyes for Pitch Black.

His hearing fell away. The sounds softened, slurred. The sensation was foreign, and all he could hear above it was his own harsh breathing, his heartbeat, and the silence that spilled from Pitch's mouth.

Pitch wasn't making any sound.

Jack made one for him. He roared. He clutched his staff and drew his icy magic into his very chest, reverting the surface of the pond to water. Everything went under. The invisible force which had cruelly strapped Jack down disappeared. The burning light had dropped down with Faust and was still wrenching darkness from Pitch's body under the water. Jack specified the formation of ice just beneath Pitch's legs, and pushed it up. The shade shot back towards the surface, disappearing from the water.

Faust's furious cry was gloriously muffled by the water. Unfortunately, his magic was not. The glowing circle had tilted with Pitch's disappearance; it was still drawing in the darkness. Faust was propelling himself towards Jack.

Jack grit his teeth in concentration and pointed his staff at Faust.

The man froze instantly in the block of ice. Jack pumped his fist sluggishly in the water as Faust slowly drifted towards the surface. He passed through the light and something terrible happened: in the middle of that block of ice, Faust's face twisted in riveting pain.

Jack had left a pocket of air around the face so Faust could breathe, but seeing the man's mouth wrench open in an unheard scream was painful enough. Violet magic was being pulled from his body, and Jack couldn't stand to watch. He compelled the ice to the surface, forcing Faust out of the purifying light, which latched back onto Pitch's lingering darkness, despite the fact that he was above the water.

If there was one thing Jack could do well, it was act without thinking. He tried not to do it often, but now, with the conclusions he was drawing in his head, he needed to.

He swam up, fingers outstretched, and went into the path of the light.

Pain and heat consumed him faster than he could ever hope to process, and he knew darkness in an instant.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Short chapter, yes, I know. Kudos to you if you can guess what that ring Faust used is before I reveal it. Now for a brief discussion.

There will be a sequel, but I won't get to it for a while. When I finish this story up, I will then go back to my actual book I'm writing (the second one, in fact) because I have neglected it since I started this project. I hate myself for that. Anyway, I'll work on that, and then I'll start working on another ROTG fanfic, but it won't be the sequel. The idea popped into my head a couple days ago, and I toyed with it before deciding that I'd go along. When I finish that, I will go back to working on my book, and _then_ I will do the sequel to this fic. It will take a while though, because school will have started for me by then, and for those of you who know how college is, take pity on me. If you don't, still take pity.

I thank you for your loyalty, sticking with me up to this point. I think there will be two more chapters.


	18. Heart in Hand

**Heart in Hand**

He never understood what the humans meant by The Light until now. Now, as he swam in the sea of unconsciousness. Now, as his head cracked and his teeth rattled and his soul felt like it was being ripped to shreds. Was this The Light the humans saw in death? Was this The Light that was to draw them gently to the other side? Because Jack felt too much pain to be dead. And this was not gentle.

Time. Damn time and its trickiness. He didn't know how long he had been drifting in this light. He wasn't aware of how he could even _feel_ aware. He thought. But could not comprehend.

Eventually, the pain ebbed. The Light remained, but it did not hurt. In fact, it started to soothe. He could feel himself knitting together. He couldn't feel his body; he didn't even know if his soul remained in his body anymore. All he knew was this pain in his mind. But that pain was ebbing. His mind was healing, though it was making some pretty nasty comments along the way.

_Ooooh, Jackie boy. Mmmm-mm-mm, you screwed up good._

The Light started to fade.

_Shoulda left it as it was. Shoulda gotten fucked by a shadow king and left it at that._

The darkness closed in fast, but Jack Frost wasn't scared. He was becoming aware.

_Shoulda, coulda, woulda, hahaha, look at you. Juuuust look at you lying down on the job. When you wake up, you're gonna wish you could lie back down. On the job. A hand job. Maybe Pitch'll give you a hand job before you split up. A hand-hand, tangle your hands, you crazy sonuvabitch. Spread the ice, leech the heat._

Jack could feel his body now. He couldn't open his eyes, but he could feel their weight. He _could_ open his mouth, though, and he did. He pushed air out of his lungs, vibrated his vocal cords, and knew sound was coming out, but he couldn't hear it. Oh, that didn't matter. His head was doing a nice job of summing up his fears.

_You gonna wake up sometime soon, Jackie boy? Face it, things'll never work. He'll never love you. Let him go, give him a kiss and say bye-bye. Plenty of spirits in the forest to fuck. Big strong birdman'll do the trick. Or the pretty iceman. Yeah, he'll do. Closer to you. He'll take care of you, get rid of the heat._

Only…only there was heat. On his cheeks. Was he – oh, he was. He'd never felt his tears burn so much though. But it was nice. So he told the mean, nasty part of his head that was spreading doubt like poison to shut up.

_Enough. Pitch is all I want. I want that heat. I want him, even so. Get it together. Open your eyes. Get it together. Open your—_

Eyes were on him, he knew. He could feel someone watching him. He struggled against his own flesh and at last, felt his eyelids stretch painfully and rise.

At first, all he could see was that damn Light. But then those frosty blues adjusted, and Jack realized that it wasn't Light, but light. Just light. Coming from a blurry lamp overhead. Everything was blurry. Jack twisted his head and saw the room, but didn't actually _see_. It was all blurry. He hated it.

The haze began to sharpen in color. The room gained a richness, not so faded anymore. Deep browns and greens began to make themselves known, but by the door was a blue figure hunched over in what Jack assumed was a chair. His mind couldn't grasp who that figure was, so his mouth tried to ask. All that came out was a hiss of air.

The figure rose when Jack made that pathetic hiss and approached, but the frost spirit's eyes were fighting his urge to see who that was. Apparently his ears weren't fully operational either, because there was a dull thud from the other side of what looked like the door and the blue figure turned. The fuzzy mess that was the door swung open and darkness invaded, and the blue fought back angrily. The shouting was muffled in Jack's ears, which he was grateful for because he had a feeling that if he could hear normally, the noise level would be quite over the top.

The darkness seemed to be reaching for him, and Jack was compelled to reach back. A blurred tendril brushed his cold fingers before having to withdraw due to the advancing blue. More colors arrived: red, gold, and green embellished by a multitude of colors. Jack wanted to stay awake and watch them all confront the darkness, not because he was worried for the black shadow, but because something about the confrontation didn't seem as serious as it should have been. If anything, it was a bit comical.

Sadly, his eyes won the fight; his body melted into the soft fabrics beneath, his hands curled back to his sides, and his mind gave way to the darkness that did not belong to the shadow trying to touch him so desperately.

* * *

His nose was what brought him back to consciousness. It was a nice awakening. He smelled warm earth and cut grass and springtime, which made him a little confused. It was summer, last time he checked. So either he had been asleep for a long time, or he had traveled back through time.

Jack toyed with both ideas for a second before tossing them in his mental trash bin. He was obviously in the Warren. Jack didn't know why it was obvious, but it became more obvious as he sniffed subtly. He didn't know why his mind felt so sharp right now, but it felt good, felt clear. He shifted and winced instinctively, expecting pain, but if anything, he felt better than ever. In fact, he felt like he could sit up and walk – no, _fly_ right on out.

He stuck to sitting up.

Eyes open, he saw that it was indeed an earthen room in the Warren, one for guests. It was a little cramped, being a rabbit hole and all, but it was cozy, nice, and the perfect temperature. His staff was just by the door. Jack bounced on the bed, twisted his torso, waved his arms, wiggled his toes. He felt _great_. And he knew he shouldn't have. Just as the questions began to bubble up in his mind, the door opened and Tooth fluttered in.

"Oh!" she said with great surprise. She rushed him and flung her arms about his neck. Jack hugged her tightly, and then she pulled back. "We didn't expect you to be up for at least another week."

"A week?" Jack repeated, equally surprised. "How long have I been out?"

"_Two_ weeks. How do you feel?"

"Great. Which is weird."

"No, not really. Someone will explain everything to you later, but since you're feeling okay, let's get you to North's."

"Yeah, about that," Jack said, swinging his feet out of bed and doing a couple stretches. "Why am I here? Wouldn't I heal better at the Pole? It being cold and all?"

Tooth actually stood on her own two feet, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning against the doorframe. "I guess you're going to be catching up all day. First of all, you were never really injured. Not from that light. And I'm not going to explain anything more about that. That's someone else's job. Second, you're here because I requested that you be put here. You were at the Pole originally, but…er, well, Pitch was being a little—"

Jack shot across the room and seized her. "Where is he?! Is he okay? Why isn't he…" His voice faltered. "Why isn't he here? Does he not want to see me?"

Tooth's hands were soft on his face. "Not at all, Jack." Her voice was so resolute that he immediately believed her. "In fact, just the opposite. He's the reason I wanted to move you here. He was hanging over your bedside for three days. I didn't want the others to be suspicious, so I said you should be moved here for some peace and quiet. Bunny's eggs make less noise than a handful of North's elves."

Jack blinked gratefully. "That was super smart. Thanks. But…he really was worried?"

"Still is. He tried storming in here after you'd only been here for a few hours."

That explained _that_, Jack thought. "I think I was partially conscious for that."

"Then you probably saw how Bunny reacted. He's angry enough."

"Angry?" Alarm made Jack's hands twitch. "Did…did he find out? Because Pitch was staying with me while I was out?"

"No, not about that. He believes that Pitch is really your friend now, and he said he's okay with it, but he doesn't have to like it, or treat him any differently. I guess you two really are…Jack? What's wrong?"

Jack shook his head and took up his staff. "I don't know what we are. I love him, Tooth," he didn't miss the way she gasped delightedly, "but we really need to talk. I'm still really angry. He needs to tell me why he screwed me over and ran off with Faust. He looked so mad when we all showed up, but when he…when he saved me, took me away from the battle site, he was so…"

Tooth gently led him to the tunnel connecting the Warren to the Workshop. "You really need to be caught up on things. With us, and with Pitch. And Jack? Don't worry about him. If you could have seen his face, you'd know. He's fond of you. I think he loves you too."

The funny thing was, Jack believed in the fond bit. He could tell that Pitch enjoyed his presence, his mirth, his wit. But he knew that the man had been without companionship for the longest time. Jack was a social balm for him. "I think it's just loneliness, Tooth. He doesn't feel that way about me."

The sounds of the Workshop were comforting as they went through the tunnel and came out on the other side. Tooth rolled her lovely magenta eyes. "Sure, Jack. Sure."

They flew to the Globe Room, and Jack found himself being crushed by large, muscular arms. "Jack!" North boomed joyously, swinging him around in a wide arc. "You're awake!"

Jack laughed and let himself be shaken like a ragdoll, even if he was finding it harder and harder to breath. As soon as he was set down, his neck was caught beneath a furry limb, hair being ruffled by the soft, velvety pads of a rabbit's paw. "You really _are_ a sight fer sore eyes, mate."

Jack buried his face in Bunny's fur and squeezed him gently. "Hey. Miss me?"

"This'll be the only time you hear me admit it," the Pooka said unabashedly.

Jack was spun about by a golden tendril and found himself looking into Sandy's wide, worried eyes. The Sandman was careful as he hunted over Jack's face for a sign of discomfort, fatigue, or pain; when he found none, he smiled and patted his shoulders welcomingly. Jack poked him in the stomach – something he had always wanted to do – and Sandy gave a silent chuckle.

Jack knew Pitch wasn't in the room, but he refrained from pointing this out for the moment. "What happened to the others?"

"Admon left as soon as we told him of Faust's capture," North said, leading him to the table. Jack sat on its edge and ran his fingers absentmindedly along the grooves in his staff. "Now that his home is safe, he needs to work on healing it immediately. Much damage was done."

"What about Faust?"

"Fuinor took him back to his homeland to interrogate him. He's been very resistant, but I'm sure we'll have answers from him eventually."

"And Pyotr?"

"Reporting back to his king." North smiled at Jack's crestfallen look. "Don't worry! He will be back tomorrow, Fuinor as well."

Jack's shoulders sagged with relief. He thought about all the questions he wanted to ask the frost spirit; then his mind turned to Maro the tengu. Coincidentally, Bunny chimed in, "Your little bird friend didn't show. Thought he was gonna help us."

Jack thought of the strong spirit, thought of his sincerity, and nodded. "He will. He'll come back. Just give him some time. So does anyone want to tell me what that crazy bastard used on Pitch? And why I'm not hurt?"

"Tomorrow," North promised, a knowing look in his eyes. "Is surprise you haven't asked about _him_."

Jack prayed to high heaven that he wasn't blushing. "H-huh?"

"Shouldn't you ask about your new friend?"

Bunny made a retching noise. "_Guh_, please don't."

Jack smiled apologetically. "Where is he?"

"Went back to sulk in his lair. I'm tellin' ya, mate, you should cut this off."

"I think is good idea," North protested.

Sandy's symbols clearly stated that he was a little unsure on the matter. Possibly even sided with Bunny. Tooth took North's side, but for reasons obvious only to Jack, who shrugged and said, "I'm going to go see if he's alright. Meet here tomorrow to wrap this craziness up?"

When they all nodded, he made his exit, and soon found the frigid caress of the wind an immense comfort. He didn't even realize that his heart was pounding wildly until he was over the ocean. He knew better than to hope for anything from Pitch when he saw him, but Tooth had been so insistent that the Nightmare King cared – _really_ cared.

He knew better than to hope. So he prayed.

* * *

The lair was completely empty. He was so surprised that he couldn't even give a shout. He flew over to the twinkling globe on its crooked ledge; he hadn't paid much of any attention to it since this entire mess had started. Now he traced his finger over the rough surface of the UK and wondered if that was where Pitch was.

An echoing _clip-clop_ jerked him to attention. He let his staff glow warily as he watched a small herd of Nightmares appear far below on the ground. They were all coming from one direction, and as Jack flew down to meet them, he had a pretty good idea of where they had been. Black noses lifted as he descended on them, and the beautiful horses pranced eagerly when the realized who he was.

Jack picked out the leader immediately and landed on her back lightly. "Hey, girl. Miss me?"

Onyx's whinny was made into a chorus as all of the Nightmares responded. Jack thought they had grown friendlier since he had started hanging out with Pitch. That, or they were just fond of him. Onyx reared suddenly and Jack had to seize her main to steady himself. "Whoa, steady there. Care to share where Pitch is?"

Heads and ears swiveled towards the tunnel leading to England.

"Huh." Jack swung one leg over to hop down, but Onyx suddenly surged up, followed by the rest of her sisters, and flew outside. Jack had to fling his arms around her neck to keep from falling off as she glided through the sky. "What the heck!"

The responding neighs sounded suspiciously like laughter. Jack sighed and settled properly on the mount for the ride. The flight took him across the big blue to the very country he believed Pitch to be hiding in. Jack made Onyx fly low as they approached the mountains so he could get a closer look at the city he had seen in the distance. He was immediately distracted by another mountainous sect off to the left, and then another to the right, and he suddenly recalled why he recognized this place so well.

"This is so cool," Jack cooed to Onyx as he looked over the area in north-west England known as Lakeland. "Your master's got good taste in location."

This was one of the places Jack usually retreated in the warm months to make snow once in a while, because there could be snow on mountain tops no matter what season. He just hadn't been here recently because this summer had been particularly trying. Just the thought that Pitch's home had been so close to Jack for centuries made him clutch his staff to himself tighter and sigh.

Onyx just flew towards the house and landed neatly with the rest of her herd. Jack hopped off and scratched her neck. "Thanks for the ride, though I didn't really need it." He turned and froze.

At first, he was overcome with rage at the thought that someone had come here and messed with Pitch's house, because it looked different. But his brain eventually passed the fog of confusion as he realized that even if someone had come to mess with this place, they hadn't done a very good job because it was looking better. Not fixed, but better.

The roof, from where he could see, had been patched, and someone was in the process of re-shingling it. The smashed wooden posts that had been struggling to hold up the overhang shading the porch from the mid-morning sun had been replaced with strong beams rich in an earthy color. As Jack moved closer, he saw that the porch steps had been repaired, not a hole in sight. In fact, the entire porch looked redone.

He knew why it looked so drastically different: the intricate details that had once been in the rotting wood weren't there. This wood was raw and rough, unfinished. Jack had a feeling that whoever had done this would be back to carve those beautiful details in once more.

_I think I know who did this._

He pulled open the door – also repaired, unlocked – and stared in amazement at the foyer. It was flooded with sunlight streaming in from the giant windows that Jack hadn't even known to exist. Their curtains were pushed back, and everything looked beautiful. The staircase was fixed, new boards laid down in their rough stages, still needing to be sanded. The walls were bare and needed a fresh coat of paint, but they were scrubbed clean. The broken tiles had been swept into a tidy pile in the corner, and a new stack was lying at the base of the stairs, ready for distribution.

Jack was struck with astonishment as he saw a broom leaning next to the new banister. Someone had done _all_ of this by hand. And Jack could hear that someone shuffling around beyond the foyer. He followed his ears all the way to the den, peering cautiously around the doorframe. He clamped a hand over his nose and mouth to keep the laughter from escaping.

Pitch was – this was another dimension, it just had to be – he was actually _humming_ as he pushed a brand new bookshelf into a corner of the room. When it was snug against the wall, he reached into a crate of straw and pulled out a picture frame. It was empty, but the frame was twisted with bronze and very beautiful. Jack stared hungrily at the long fingers which set the frame on a lonely shelf.

_Is he fixing this house up for—_

He perished the thought. Buried it. Drowned it. Strangled it with a bit of annoyance because how in the world could he so arrogantly think that Pitch Black had returned here to fix up this house of haunting memories for Jack? He turned his eyes about the room; it had been completely done over.

A fresh coat of warm, burgundy paint on the walls, new bricks bordering the fireplace, new hardwood floors that gleamed in the sunlight slammed up against a clean window with long curtains that had been pushed back to reveal a window seat – and when Jack looked down, he saw with curling glee a rug from a trunk in the attic. It was flattened beneath a new, large couch that had made a home in front of the fireplace.

He supposed it was his emotions which tipped Pitch off. He could even feel the joy overwhelming him. The Nightmare King stopped all movement – Jack missed the humming immediately; Pitch had a nice voice – and glanced over.

Jack was expecting a vocal invitation to fling himself into those lean arms, but instead, Pitch turned slowly and stood there, staring. His face was a mask of stone, but Jack knew there was no hostility beneath it. Pitch was waiting for him to speak first.

Jack opened his mouth. Noting came out. However, his did tear up, much to his frustration. He tried to speak again, but the sound that exited was a bit like "_haaaaah_". He clamped his teeth shut and instead tried taking a step into the room. His legs wobbled and he dropped to his knees, never taking his eyes from the tall, lithe form.

Pitch's face finally contorted with frightening worry, and he bore down on Jack in all his darkness to gently brush his hands against pale cheeks.

"Jack?"

His voice cold cocked Jack's senses.

He swung without a word, clipping a high cheekbone and causing Pitch's head to snap to the side. Jack jabbed him viciously in the gut with the crook of his staff, then dropped it and hit him again with his hands, fingers balled into tight, painful fists that hit every part of the Boogeyman they could reach, intend on bruising and battering him for all the wrong he had done from the moment Jack had awoken alone in this house.

The frightening thing was, Pitch let him without making a sound. Jack hadn't had much time to react to Pitch saving him from Faust. He'd wanted to beat the everliving shit out of the man, and here was his chance. He was doing it. But each blow hurt his heart as much as it hurt Pitch.

It was only when the shade finally gasped as Jack landed a hit on his gut that the frost spirit stopped and shuffled off the warm, prone body. He scrambled back, only just realizing that he was gasping for air as he wrapped his arms around himself. Pitch had sat up and fixed him with a perfectly clam look; he looked awful, cheeks swollen, an eye darkening, lip split and bleeding, as was his nose. It was brutal.

Jack whimpered, sorry and not sorry.

Pitch just nodded.

They sat staring at each other, waiting. Pitch's wounds began to heal. Jack watched the flesh mend, the swelling go down, and when it was all gone, Pitch swiped a sleeve across his nose and mouth to get rid of the blood. Then he opened his arms. The invitation.

Jack really did fling himself forward. Pitch toppled to his back, the breath leaving his body from Jack's excitable force, but he didn't complain or tell Jack to remove himself. Their lips found each other, and it gave Jack such a jolt as though it had been their very first kiss. It was close-mouthed, very simple, very sweet.

"Hello," breathed the Nightmare King.

"Hey," whispered the Guardian of Fun, rather shyly in fact. His eyelids fluttered shut as long, lovely fingers stroked his features, as though trying to map them and confirm their existence. When a thumb landed at the corner of his lips, he murmured, "I'm not apologizing."

"Please don't."

"I might hit you again. I _want_ to."

"I'll let you."

"I _hate_ you."

"Alright."

"…I lied. I love you."

"I know."

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I do," Pitch replied patiently, hands slipping under the blue hoodie almost casually and creeping upwards.

Jack wanted to so badly, but he said regretfully, "We need to talk."

"No."

Jack sat up and scooted away from him to a warm patch of sunlight on the clean floor. "No one's said anything to me. Do you know how many questions I have? What I'm—"

"Jack Frost." The use of his first and last name was unusual, but it shut him up good. Pitch moved towards him like a goddamn mountain cat, powerful and graceful and _dangerous_, because his eyes said that the next sound coming out of Jack's mouth better have been a moan.

Which it was, as his grey hand went down to cup him between the legs.

"Do you know how long I have waited for you to wake up?" Pitch murmured, lowering Jack to the floor and keeping a firm pressure on his crotch. "How many answers I wanted to give you? Excuses, even? How I worried – me, _worrying_, Jack. No. You don't know, and you will never know. And the longer you slept, the longer I told myself that I couldn't answer your questions when you awoke."

"Did you think I wouldn't wake up?"

Pitch barked out a harsh laughter that made Jack flinch beneath his form. "No, I knew you would wake up. I knew you'd be fine." He suddenly paused, eyebrows knitting together in great annoyance. "I'm talking more than I thought I would."

"Why don't you want to answer me?"

Pitch seized his hand and pressed the palm to his lips, a searing brand. Then he guided the hand to his exposed collarbone, then down his chest, past his torso, to his manhood, and Jack blushed brilliantly as he felt the hot, heavy bulge there for _him_.

"_This_ is why I do not want to talk right now, Jack," Pitch whispered, golden eyes brighter than the sun. Jack felt like he could be lit on fire by their very hue, and he wouldn't scream unless it was in pleasure. "Because you do this to me, and I want to make sure you are alright. Hit me if you must, but I'll at least be feeling you. I don't want to listen to you right now. I want to _feel_."

"But you said—"

"My mind knew you would be alright," Pitch hissed, yanking Jack's hand to his chest. Jack felt something there that made his blood rush south. The Boogeyman's heartbeat was absolutely erratic, thumping as wildly as Jack's own. Pitch let go, but Jack kept his hand there, a look of stupefied wonder plastered to his face.

"…Oh."

Pitch was already wrestling with his hoodie; Jack let him. "Yes, _oh_. My mind knew, but my heart, Jack. My _heart_. And if my heart doesn't tell you what you do to me, then I don't know what else—ah, enough!" He managed to wrench the blue cloth over the white head and viciously toss it aside as though it deserved the harsh treatment. "So you'll forgive me if I hasten to fuck you into this very floor that I redid myself."

The "braggart" that Jack wanted to say came out far more high-pitched then intended when his belt was nearly snapped in two and his pants ripped down to his ankles, painfully tugged off and treated as cruelly as the hoodie.

"Can't we—_oooh_," Jack tried, for the man had his hand wrapped around something very delicate, "ju-just ta-_alk!_"

The heat withdrew from him all at once, and Jack raised his head to find Pitch just sitting there on his heels, looking a little lost, somewhat peeved, and _very_ desperate. "You," he started, but had to stop because his voice trembled. They stared at each other, each as bewildered as the other by the falter. Pitch tried again. "If you want to talk, we will."

Jack swallowed dryly. He had been asleep for two weeks; he hadn't gotten any answers when he woke up. He _wanted_ answers. Needed them. But Pitch had been clinging to his bedside at any chance he'd gotten, according to Tooth, and he said he knew Jack would be okay, but his heart needed reassurance, and _oh_, it clicked now, because Pitch hadn't only been worried. He had been _scared_.

Any remaining anger in Jack's cold body melted away. He sat up and ran his finger down the slit of Pitch's robe, parting it easily. "Okay."

The tension seemed to leave the man as he leaned forward and melted into Jack's body. His tongue carved a path into the cold mouth and danced with the partner it found there. Jack pushed back, surprised that he was just as eager to do this as the other. Pitch's black robe slid away, pants following, and he scraped his nails across the floor without reason. A shadow sprang from his fingers and disappeared out the door, quickly returning with that lovely jar of salve they had found a second use for.

When the first slick digit pushed past that tight ring of muscle, Jack arched his back and gasped, "You were a—a real ass!"

Pitch groaned from his place buried in Jack's neck. "Are we really going to discuss that while this is going on?"

"Satisfies both o—_uuuh_, of us."

"Fine. I'll have to do my best to shut you up."

"Good luck. I've always been a—_ah!_"

And Jack really had to shut up for a few seconds as a second finger found its way in and began to lazily pet his prostate. Pitch wrapped his other hand around the frost spirit's flushed dick and gave a few experimental pumps, smirking as blue eyes widened. "Hm. Perhaps keeping you quiet isn't as hard as I thought."

"You promised you'd stay with me," Jack managed to say steadily. Pitch froze. "I guess I was just getting ahead of myself. You lie for a living, so—"

A third finger joined its companions and created a familiar burn that had him squirming uncomfortably. Jack glared disapprovingly at Pitch, only to regret saying anything when he saw the hurt shining in his golden eyes.

"Jack…I promise to answer your questions. But will you please shut up and…let me feel you?"

Jack nodded slowly, biting his lip and relaxing to accompany the stretch of the fingers. Pitch shook his head and pulled his hands away. "Turn over."

It was amazing how weak his limbs were as he rolled onto his stomach, curled his legs underneath him, and pressed his face into his arms. His ass was in the air and he felt like a bitch in heat, but it was pretty accurate, especially with how he keened as those blessed fingers returned. The other grey hand stretched out over the white expanse of his smooth, icy back, stroking and tracing, inspecting to ensure he was alright.

Jack knew Pitch needed this. He needed this too. He knew Pitch was alright, but he needed to be sure that his mind wasn't broken, though he doubted that could ever happen. So he quivered in silence and let Pitch explore his body single-handedly. That single hand made sure that everything was in order, that not a single nick or scar remained.

"Pitch," Jack whispered when the man had been rubbing mindless circles on his belly for a few minutes as his other hand pumped into him repeatedly. "Please, I'm ready." He presented his rear a little higher in the air and felt the shade accept the invitation by gripping his hips and lining himself up.

This time, Pitch did not move slowly. He thrust straight in, hips slamming to a stop up against the pale buttocks. Jack's eyes rolled up and he pressed back into the flames, trying to feel _more_. Pitch pulled back and snapped his hips forward again in an almost vicious manner, then repeated it and developed a rhythm. Jack almost immediately tasted blood as he sank his teeth into his arm to keep from crying out.

God, it felt so _good_, and Jack just continued pressing back to meet each thrust, trying not to make a sound. The rhythm faltered for a moment, and his back was suddenly on fire, covered by that broad chest. A hand snaked around to grip his dripping cock, and what could have been the voice of the devil purred in his ear, "_Moan_ for me, Jack."

Jack did him one better as Pitch struck that one wonderful spot. He screamed.

The very sound caused Pitch to double over that pale, smooth expanse of the frost spirit's back, grab his wrists, and stretch his arms out before him on the floor. He wound his fingers quite willingly with Jack's, and Jack just panted noisily into the floor, arched like a cat, while the shade lay over him, moving in and out with vigor.

Jack's mind went blank for a few seconds, not from orgasm, though he was dangerously close, but from the sensation of having Pitch Black covering him almost protectively. It only served as a reminder that Pitch had sworn not to leave, and he had, even after he'd promised. Something in Jack's swelling heart flared painfully with confusion. Why would this man be so tender and caring to him, yet break his heart in the next instant? Did he enjoy putting Jack's emotions through the wringer?

"No."

His breath hitched as that warm hand which was wrapped over his cock began to stroke in time to each thrust, intent on bringing him off.

"Please, trust me."

Pitch was breathless, but he somehow managed to make his voice steady.

"Don't stop loving me."

The request drove a spike of arousal straight through Jack's body, and he came with a sharp cry. His walls clenched around Pitch, and he could feel that hot member almost swell and let go, filling him, possessing him, burning him from the inside out so that it might forever remind him that he belonged to Pitch Black.

_And he belongs to me._

* * *

Sometime later, as he stroked those pale scars decorating beautiful grey skin, Jack asked quietly, "Why did you lie to me?"

They were lying on the floor in another hot patch of sunlight, just a few feet away from where they had…well, Jack still felt that he had to say "fucked", because it was still a one-way street in love for him. They were both still very naked, and their hands wandered lazily, stroking places and lightly pressing skin in a non-sensual, explorative way.

Pitch was silent for a minute before replying, "I kept my promise." Jack bit back the disbelieving accusation that tried to claw its way out of his mouth, letting the shade explain. "My robe which I left for you – you kept it with you the entire time, all the way up until the confrontation. I never left your side."

"Are you telling me that you turned into a robe?"

"No. The robe was a shadow; a portal, if you could call it that. I could feel everything it went through. Although I wasn't able to know your exact location from it, I was completely aware of your heart, of everything you were feeling. I felt your chill, still tasted your emotions. If I had wanted to, I could have just reached an arm through it to touch you." His hand stalled at Jack's hip to stroke it lazily with a calloused thumb. "I even felt when you froze it over. I was very cold for those few minutes."

Jack's laugh was a mixture of sheepishness and delight, but then he quieted as the sadness welled up in his body. "You said those awful things to Faust about me."

Pitch pressed his face to his white hair and exhaled an apology. "I had to."

Somehow, Jack understood this to be true. "Now what?"

"Tell me what you felt," Pitch said. "From the moment you woke up alone in that house to the moment you encountered Faust."

"You already know, I thought. Through the robe."

"I want to hear it from you."

Jack swallowed. "When I woke…I felt good. Sore, but good. And I laughed when I saw your note. I do not drool, by the way."

Pitch chuckled, a warm rumble that vibrated both their bodies and had them nudging closer together. "Perhaps I exaggerated. Your mouth was open and you were exhaling frost on my shoulder in your sleep. I count that as drool."

Jack did just that, exhaling on the grey skin and watching it disappear beneath a thin layer of icy blue frost. "Did you really mean it though? When you said you stayed in bed ten minutes longer?"

"No. It was thirty minutes longer. I had intended to leave as soon as I awoke, but…"

_Can't you just say you love me?_ Jack's mind cried desperately. _I can see it! I know you do! Please, one admission is all I want._

But he continued on. "Took your robe, went to the tunnel…I was really scared when I saw the arrowhead had gone missing. And then I went into the open and…you were there with that stupid monkey and Faust."

"That 'stupid monkey' happens to be a descendent of yetis and chuchunyas," Pitch said distractedly, obviously uncomfortable with hearing of the wrong he had done.

"You made a…a joke about my mouth." And Jack's stomach did a slow, lazy, sickening role. He looked up though and found twin solar eclipses simmering with regret. Pitch carefully captured Jack's pale mouth with his and moved his lips slowly, coaxing Jack into hesitant relaxation.

"It appears I will only be able to apologize today," he murmured when they stopped.

Jack shook his head. "I was tossed in a cave and you gloated. You were…were…" His voice clouded and his eyes misted over, and he snuffled wetly, feeling pathetic as his emotions were riled up yet again. "You were so serious."

"No, no, _no_," Pitch murmured over and over again against his mouth. "No, Jack, I was lying, I swear. But my acting skills have always been unparalleled. They have to be so. The question is, do you believe the man you saw then, or the man here and now?"

Jack blinked back tears and raised a hand to place it over Pitch's heart. He felt it then: the stuttering skip in the heartbeat. Pitch could never fake that. He melted into the warmth, relieved. "I believe you now." Pitch seemed to relax, but Jack was still determined to give him a hard time. "You were a bastard though. I just can't get over what you said about my mouth. Making me sound like a fuck toy."

"Shall I let you use my mouth then?" Pitch whispered dirtily in his ear, causing his groin to stir. "Over and over and _over_ until you've been compensated? Because I will let you."

"I believe you," Jack whispered back. And he did believe. "Well, after you guys left, I just sort of…lay there."

"I know," Pitch said laboriously, eyes closing with a look of pain. "I felt it."

"And then I froze your robe."

"I definitely felt that." He looked a little better.

"Tried to get out, but it didn't work."

"Yes. And there was a moment where you wanted to kill me. No, do not regret that moment, Jack Frost. You were entirely justified, just as you were in striking me earlier."

"I was," the youth agreed. "I found the arrowhead then, after I unfroze the robe. And I thought for a minute that maybe you hadn't completely abandoned me." Pitch smiled gently. Jack kissed that smile giddily. "I knew it. I escaped, Maro saved me from the ape, and then the others showed up. You should know the rest. I'm sure someone told you."

"Yes."

"Guess you were wrong about Irdu. He tried sending us to Germany. Not as loyal as you thought, eh?"

Pitch shook his head. "He was _supposed_ to send you to Germany. I told him to lie. I also sabotaged your communicator so you couldn't contact your friends. Irdu had to be the one to take them to you so they would trust him, and then he'd send you off."

"Why?" Jack breathed, horrified. "We could have gotten to you sooner, helped you. Why would you go off on your own?"

"That business had been going on for a while. We were wasting time. I was fed up. I knew that Faust wouldn't let me get close because I was working with all of you. He needed to see me do something to break it off; he needed to believe me."

Jack's eyes sank closed. "Is…is that why you had sex with me?" He felt Pitch tense up, but continued. "Did you only sleep with me so you could get a real reaction from me when you abandoned me in front of Faust?"

The warmth was ripped away as Pitch sat up angrily and pushed him back. "Why do you torture yourself by drawing these conclusions? They are detrimental to the both of us. You _know_ that's not true."

Jack sat up and drew his knees in. "I know. I'm sorry."

Pitch sighed. "I took you to bed, and it was only after that I decided that I needed to end this immediately. I didn't plan to do it when I awoke. I hadn't expected Faust to turn up when I visited the lair the next day, but I had to be quick. I told him I was going to leave you a note. When I returned to the house, I sabotaged you, left the note and the robe of shadows, and you know what happened after."

"Good thinking."

"Of course," the man replied arrogantly. Jack snorted and nudged his bare shins with his toes. "We met Irdu in Russia; he took us to the park. I pulled him aside when I got the chance and told him what to do. It would have worked, had it not been for that _fucking bird_."

The rage in his voice surprised Jack enough to make him scoot closer and splay milky hands on ashen thighs. "Maro was just trying to help. Besides, what would you have accomplished if we hadn't been there?"

"It was a business deal, Jack," Pitch groaned in exasperation, though he did lay his hands on top of Jack's and stroke them. "I know how these things work. Faust was still cautious, but he was getting to the point where he would show me how he had taken the dark magic of other spirits. Had you not turned up, I'd have seen the method and taken him out right then and there."

"Well, sorry. Wasn't my fault."

"Yes, it was. You just had to be yourself and befriend that tengu, didn't you?"

"You love me for it," Jack said cheekily. They both fell quiet at that. Then Pitch leaned forward and kissed him. Jack responded, and felt his member stir again.

Pitch glanced down, smirked, and said, "Looks like you get to start using my mouth." He pushed Jack on his back and ducked his head, and in the next instant, Jack felt a hot stripe being licked up his cock. Pitch continued to wet him from base to head, coaxing him to full arousal before pausing to breathe on the flushed pink tip. "You are beautiful."

He took Jack into his mouth.

"_Guh!_" Jack bit his wrist to keep from groaning too loudly. "I-I thought we were t-talking about what ha-_aaaah_-happened!"

The furnace that was Pitch Black's mouth left his cock for a moment to say, "Nothing left to talk about. You came after me, I pulled you away from Faust through the robe, and that's that."

"But how did he steal all of that ma-_aaaah_…"

"Technicalities will be explained tomorrow," Pitch said patiently, stroking him too slowly. Then he swallowed him again.

This time, Jack was very vocal, though not quite the brightest with his words. After all, "_fuck, _yeeessssss" and "oh, please, oh, please don't stop, _don't_" weren't quite intelligent. Pitch did not stop, even grabbed Jack's hands and placed them in his hair so he could control the timing with which Pitch bobbed his head.

"_Haa…haaa_…I think I-I'm going to use y-you a lot," Jack panted.

Pitch hummed in agreement. The vibrations made Jack's entire body quiver. His stomach muscles clenched, and he tried to warn Pitch, even tried to pull his head up, but Pitch batted him away and gave a good, long, hard _suck_, and Jack was coming as stars exploded behind his eyelids. He arched, felt Pitch swallow everything he had to give, and very nearly blacked out, but it was those warm hands slipping under his back and pulling him upright for a kiss that kept him grounded to earth.

He never wanted those hands to let go.

He tasted himself on those lips, an indescribable combination of winter and midnight. He wanted that combination to never be destroyed for the rest of eternity, so he breathed, when Pitch stopped plunging his tongue into his mouth, "I _love_ you."

Pitch breathed heavily as he twined their fingers intimately together. "Ice."

Jack did, and they pulled back to watch the diamond white slink over those grey fingers. Pitch's golden gaze seemed far more wondrous this time. Jack nuzzled his neck, inquiring softly, "What's wrong?"

"It's always struck me as odd when you do this, because I don't know why you do it."

Jack glanced down at their fingers. "I don't know. It's our thing. I guess it's my way of showing affection."

"It's special to you," Pitch murmured reverently.

"Yes. It's…yeah, I guess it's now my way of saying that I love you." He smirked into the grey collarbone. "Though there are other ways, and I can still just plain out say it. I love you." He felt Pitch's grip tightened, then he froze when something touched his fingertips. He jerked his head away to gawk at their joined hands.

There, just starting to brush his middle fingers, was a shadow. It was starting to creep over all of his fingertips. When they were all covered – Jack watched this with the widest eyes, unable to even _breathe_ – the shadows moved up, covering the fingers entirely, one by one, warming them evenly. The darkness went all the way to his pale wrist, where it stopped – exactly where the frost stopped on Pitch's hands.

Jack didn't know how long he stared, but he eventually tore his eyes away to look at Pitch's face. His heart nearly stopped, for Pitch Black, Boogeyman, Nightmare King, was looking right back with an enormous amount of uncertainty, and perhaps the slightest bit of fear and apprehension. His eyes held that very emotion Jack carried for him. And, lo and behold, the faintest tinge of pink dusted his cheeks.

That was when Jack knew precisely what he was saying without making a sound. That was when Jack accepted that while Pitch couldn't say those words, he was doing the one thing of higher significance than anything else other than speaking to show that he felt the same way. That was when Jack started breathing again, though it was more of hyperventilation.

And that was when Jack began to cry.

* * *

**Author's Note:** No update tomorrow, and possibly not the next day either. Any questions I can answer at the end of the next chapter before I disappear? Next chapter will be the last.

By the way, MoonKent, you got it in one. Kudos!


	19. I Am Thine, Thou Art Mine

**I Am Thine, Thou Art Mine**

Jack was frightened when he awoke, and that was perfectly acceptable. He came to consciousness with one prominent thought: Pitch. The thought was entirely justifiable. The last time he had awoken from a night spent in the Boogeyman's arms, he had been alone and betrayed mere minutes later.

Yes, he was completely allowed to be gripped by fear upon waking.

What also gripped him seconds later were arms. Warm, strong arms that tightened further, for they were already blissfully around him, and prevented him from leaping up. His heart thudded noisily in his chest and his eyes darted about, landing on an unlit fireplace, burgundy walls, empty bookshelves.

Then, a voice soothed his brain. "You're alright. I'm still here."

Jack shuddered and curled into Pitch's chest, breath coming in quick gasps. They were lying on the new couch, a tangle of limbs and Pitch's black robe. Jack had a feeling that for the next few times he'd fall asleep with Pitch, he'd awaken similarly: confused, terrified, and wary.

"I don't blame you," Pitch said above his head, carding his fingers through his soft hair. "What I did was unforgivable."

"And yet I forgave you," Jack replied with a shaky breath. "Though I'm still not done making you pay."

Pitch chuckled. "Even after yesterday, you still find energy?"

"I hope so. I am immortal, after all." Jack slowly pushed himself up and moved to the edge of the couch, glancing at that patch of floor they had christened over and over again yesterday.

He had cried a great deal after Pitch's silent declaration, and had he not been trembling so much, he'd have found it funny how the man was fretting over him, trying to get him to stop with kind words and worried kisses. When Jack finally did get a hold of himself, he'd scooted closer between Pitch's long legs and rubbed their members together, saying he loved him over and over and that Pitch hadn't done his job, because Jack certainly hadn't been fucked into the floor at all. So Pitch had proceeded to make good on that. Multiple times.

Jack grimaced at the evidence that had dried on that floor. All over that floor, in fact. "You're going to have one hell of a cleanup job."

Pitch sat up too and pressed his nose to the crook of Jack's neck. "You have to help me. Half of that mess is yours." He stayed there, breathing slowly, drinking in the spirit's scent and emotions. "And…half of this house is yours too."

Jack turned sharply and stared at Pitch, daring him to be joking, because the hope that started squeezing his heart was painfully intense.

"Of course," Pitch continued smoothly, as though he hadn't just asked Jack to move in with him (that was what he'd asked, wasn't it?), "you will also be responsible for fixing this house up. The decades of neglect have been harsh, and I'm certainly not doing this all on my own. And it must be done by hand. Unlike you, this structure means something to me, and I'll not—"

He was silenced by a simple kiss. Jack crawled into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. "You're a real romantic, you know?"

The Nightmare King scowled falsely. "You clearly mistake romance for convenience. You are so insistent to share lives. That means you'll have to share the work too."

Jack rocked slowly, feeling something stir down below on his side and Pitch's. "That's not the only thing we'll share."

Pitch held him captive with his hungry golden gaze for a moment before suddenly rising and dumping Jack unceremoniously on the couch. "There is work to be done."

"No, there isn't," Jack cried as Pitch went about gathering their scattered, trampled clothes. "We're done, out of danger! Faust is captured, and all you guys are supposed to be doing is explaining things to _me_. _You_ can do that on your own while we do _something else_."

Pitch didn't look at him, so Jack took the moment to appreciate the view. The man really did have a great ass, and his legs were things the Guardian could just climb. He saw Pitch's small smile, but pretended to stare unabashedly at his nudity. Well, it wasn't pretending.

"We can't." Jack knew Pitch was trying to sound serious, but it really came out as very pleased. "You must believe me when I say that, were it possible, I'd take you in every room in this house."

"It _is_ possible."

"Not today. We have this room down."

"We could go a few more rounds." Never in his wildest dreams could he have ever imagined having this conversation. He loved it.

"I have to be at the Workshop too. You're only going for an explanation. I'm going to get something back."

Jack moved to the armrest and took his clothes from him. "What did you lose?"

"It was taken from me." Pitch opened a hand, and a bit of darkness swirled up and disappeared. Jack's eyes widened. "Yes. The shadows Faust stole have not been returned to me."

"But—but you…are you okay?" Jack whispered, reaching out and clasping his hand worriedly. Pitch didn't look any different.

"Do I look okay?"

He wasn't sure if that was a trick question. "…Yes?"

Pitch nodded. "I am. While it was painful, Faust couldn't have hoped to remove everything from my body. The darkness I harbor is almost boundless. Almost, but it does have an end. Still, he only took a small portion. I feel emptiness in me, and I want to fill it."

"Why didn't you get it back sooner? Couldn't figure out how?"

"No, we knew exactly how. It was my decision to wait for you to wake up."

"Wanted me to see the show?"

The man inclined his head. "Would you love me if I was less than what I was before?"

Jack stood and pressed his hinds to the shade's abdomen. "Of course."

"And would you love me if I wanted to take back the evil stripped from me?"

"Yes." Jack supposed he should have hesitated before saying that. Pitch actually _wanted_ to have more darkness in him. But as Jack stood there and looked up into the king's eyes, he realized that he couldn't have hesitated if he had wanted to. He meant it. He would take Pitch in any way he came, whether that was half the man he was before, or saturated in the darkness and fear he loved to taste.

"Yes," Jack repeated.

Pitch looked moved by the simple answer, and bent to kiss him. "I…" His voice stalled out, and he snarled in frustration.

Jack pressed their lips together comfortingly. "I get it, okay? You can't say it. I don't know if that's because of a mental thing, or because you physically can't force the words out, but when you say it – when, not if – I don't want it to be forced. Until then, I'll say them for you. I love you."

Pitch looked at him gratefully, then suddenly stepped back. Jack saw it then: his stirring arousal. "I think we should leave before we both do something we regret."

"What's to regret?" Jack purred.

"Shall I amend that?" Pitch said dryly, pulling on his clothes. "Before we do something that will delay us."

"Fine," Jack grumbled good naturedly, following suit. "But when we get back…"

"I'll continue 'apologizing'," Pitch finished.

"I wonder if I could keep you 'apologizing' for the rest of our lives."

"Keep wondering."

* * *

Jack suffered a fright almost as bad as when he'd woken up last morning when they arrived at the Workshop. He and Pitch walked in and made for the Globe Room. They strode close together, side by side, brushing up against one another from time to time. Pitch had decided to don his armor for the meeting, and Jack had a silly smile on his face that just couldn't go away; he was so close to this man, could smell his midnight mist scent sweetly.

That was when he felt the fright. The smell.

Jack tried to backtrack from the entrance, but Pitch just gave him an annoyed, puzzled look and dragged him along by the hood. Jack stumbled in and stopped breathing when he saw his friends. North greeted them warmly and gestured to some seats. Sandy waved, looking a little concerned when they walked in together, then smiling when he saw that Jack was unharmed. Jack swallowed nervously as he glanced at Tooth and Bunny.

Tooth looked positively delighted that they had arrived together; Bunny looked peeved. Then both of their eyes widened simultaneously as Jack had expected. The terror washed over him, tenfold. He chose to look at Tooth; God forbid if he saw the horror in Bunny's gaze. Tooth pursed her lips and beckoned Jack over, and he came quickly.

"You two really don't know a thing about subtlety, do you."

Jack's face was enflamed as he hissed back, "I forgot, okay? How bad is it?"

Tooth bit her lip and sniffed curiously, but she was smiling, dammit! "It's like you two took a swim in pools filled with each other's scent."

"Oh my _God_. Do…do you think Bunny…?"

They glanced over at the Pooka, who was scowling at Pitch, nose wrinkled to the closest degree. Tooth shrugged. "Well, he definitely smells it, but chances are he won't reach the conclusion."

"How can he _not?_" Jack moaned. "No one is that clueless."

"Why don't you go find out?"

Jack slinked over to Pitch and gave Bunny a shaky smile. "How's it going?"

"Look, mate," Bunny started, noting Jack's cringe. "No, no, I won't judge. You can be friends with whoever you want to. And I get you like to show affection by huggin' people and all that, and if you have to hug _him_, go ahead, I guess. But fer one, don't hug him so tight! You really rub off on 'im."

Jack could hear Tooth tittering and wanted to throttle himself.

"An' fer two…" Bunny glared at Pitch. "That doesn't mean you have to hug him back!"

Jack turned to see how the man was taking this. Surprisingly well, in fact, if the calm gaze and curiously innocent incline of the head were anything to go by. "It is my right to return his gestures as I see fit."

Bunny bristled. "You probably don't even like him. Just because he thinks of you as a friend—"

"On the contrary," Pitch cut in, voice suddenly hard, "I have grown to appreciate Frost. My reciprocating actions are genuine. So if you'd do me a favor and not tell me how to treat my companions, I'd actually appreciate it."

Bunny looked taken aback by the declaration, then flattened his ears against his skull. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. Just…don't hug him back too often. My nose is really sharp, and it bothers me, smellin' you guys on each other."

Jack laughed nervously and pushed Pitch to the other side of the table. "Right, okay." He scowled at the man when he heard the quiet snort. "Shut up." He took a seat next to him. "We need to be careful."

"Oh, but think of the ways we could torment Bunnymund's pathetic mind! It's not too late to join me."

"Haha, _no_."

They all settled in when Fuinor and Pyotr arrived. Pitch sneered when the latter took a seat on the other side of the Guardian of Fun, and if he inched his chair closer, Jack didn't comment.

"Alright, so I guess I'm the only one who needs catching up! Who wants to start with what happened? Pitch already explained the whole thing with Irdu, which was a stupid idea anyway," and Pitch cuffed Jack over the head, ignoring Bunny's hostile glare, "but that's it. Let's start with why I wasn't hurt."

"No," North disagreed. "We start with why you went into the light without thinking."

"Hey, I was thinking…sort of. I mean, I had a quick thought that maybe the thing was mostly meant for darkness, seeing how it hurt Pitch and Faust so much. I had to make it stop, so I just moved. It hurt a whole lot more than I expected though. I think I was wrong then, but I woke up feeling fine when I know I should have still felt like crap, even after two weeks of being under."

North nodded slowly. "You were half right. It was meant to only seal darkness and evil, but the light would still hurt if one came in contact with it. It is a very purifying magic. It was foolish—"

"Stupid," Pitch emphasized.

"—to do so. But you did stop it. It is never supposed to hurt an innocent, and the spell ends when it comes in contact with something of good or if the castor ends it himself."

"And since I froze the castor, it didn't stop until I touched it. Huh. Well, I felt great when I woke up, but why was I out for so long?"

"You only touched the light for a few seconds," Bunny explained, "but just a few seconds is enough to overload you. Still, it'll leave ya feelin' energized."

"Now when we say _it_, we mean…?" Jack prompted curiously.

Bunny set something on the table that Jack grimly recognized as that damn ring Faust had been wearing. It wasn't glowing now with its eerie magic, but it still gave him the chills. "The Seal of Solomon."

"Looks old," was all Jack could say. The artifact was meant to cleanse evil, but to him, it was evil.

"Ancient," Bunny agreed. "And difficult to find. So how Faust came across it, we don't know."

"You do know," Jack said with realization. "Someone gave it to him. Your theory was right all along. Hasn't he said anything?"

Eyes turned to Fuinor, but the elf lord shook his head. "Unfortunately, the man is resistant to our methods."

_Of torture_ remained unspoken.

"However, we had reason to believe that this was the work of a spell when, during a lesser tactic, he seemed to finally feel the pain. He began to cry out, as though he were awakening from a trance. Our mages went over him and confirmed it: someone has a hold on his mind. Whatever magic it is, it's preventing him from feeling much pain, or at least keeping some part of him unconscious."

"All we need to do is find them then," Jack said.

Fuinor gave him a surprisingly patient look. "Easier said than done, Frost. Whatever this magic is, it is not a spell. We can't trace it back to its castor. It is not controlling Faust at all, but it does have a firm hold on some parts of his mind. Worry not. We'll get to the truth soon enough."

Something – a theory – scratched the back of Jack's mind, but he ignored it and tried to voice his understanding. "So the culprit didn't start this by controlling him, but by coming to him with a suggestion that he liked?"

"A suggestion of power," North affirmed.

"Right. So he picks up a couple spirits and a large mass of tengu to help him gain darkness. He goes around stripping magic from others, especially dark magic, like from your people, Fuinor. But why does he need power? He's never needed it before."

"Whatever that person suggested to him," Tooth murmured lowly so that everyone had to listen carefully, "it must have been a very appealing suggestion. Or a very threatening one."

Now there were two possibilities that they had to consider. Jack took in the solemn mood falling down upon the table and tried to put a little cheer in his voice. "Well, let's say it was appealing, because I don't feel like pitying the bastard after what he put us through." The chuckles came around. "Now we've got Faust and that person who was helping him is trying to protect him from Fuinor's…methods because Faust will definitely squeal a name if he's overwhelmed."

"Seems that way," Bunny said. "But it's not over. We've got a lotta repairin' to do. You sure that little bird boy's coming back?"

"Yes," Jack said softly, feeling Pitch tense up irritably beside him. "But I don't want to call him back right now. Let's give him a little while, maybe extend an invite to accompany us to Japan in a couple weeks. I don't think the tengu will do much without Faust, since he was the entire reason they started this."

"Is good idea," North agreed. "Now, onto magic business. We return what was taken."

Fuinor stood eagerly as Bunny took up the ring and murmured a few words to it in a different language. Jack had known Bunny was a spell castor and an alchemist, but he had thought he'd only dabbled in those arts, mainly focusing on Easter. Now, as Bunny drew burning symbols in the air with one blunt claw, Jack could see that he was clearly a master at this craft, so easily manipulating the ring's parameters.

The six-pointed star appeared slowly, giving an extra glow to the room. Bunny's fur was ruffled in anxiousness as he spoke a few more words and live flames suddenly sprung up all about the star. There were many bundles of different colors, all burning brightly as Bunny continued to coax them forth. When the flames had spread out in their little bunches, each as big as Jack's head, Fuinor stepped forward.

"Which one belongs to my people?"

Bunny searched the flames before dragging one forward with his bare paw, unburned. The bundle was violet and snappy, jumping violently and recoiling as Fuinor approached. Bunny gave the king a nod, and Fuinor eagerly plucked the purple fire away from the others and stepped back.

"You know how to distribute it when you get home?" Bunny asked.

"Of course," Fuinor said, looking like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that he had his people's magic with him. Now he could give back what they missed the most. "You haven't the slightest idea of how some of my soldiers have gone on this long without this. It is part of their souls."

Bunny nodded and turned to look at all the dancing lights. "Crikey, that's a lot of steals."

"He took so much," Tooth whispered palely, fluttering away from the magic as though it hurt to look at the evidence of ruined lives.

"We're going to return it all, right?" Jack asked.

"Of course!" North bellowed, casting all the seriousness from them and making them all jump. "We may have our own schedule, but we help fellow spirit as well! We make time. Phil! Send out notice! Let the healing being."

Jack blinked gratefully and Bunny began to end the reversal spell.

"Not so fast, Bunnymund."

The Pooka flinched like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Turning, he gave the Boogeyman an eerily frightening smile. "Somethin' I can help you with?"

Pitch opened a demanding hand. "I believe I'd like my shadows back."

Bunny glanced over the flames and the smile turned into a violent grin. "Don't see 'em."

Pitch was not amused. He snapped something in that foreign language and the glowing star was suddenly alight with twisting, writhing black fire. Bunny leapt away from it and held out a boomerang to stop Pitch's approach, trying to make an appeal to his fellow Guardians. "Aw, c'mon! When are we ever going to have a chance to keep Pitch from rising again? He doesn't need all of that darkness. He doesn't even look any different."

"But he feels empty without it," Jack protested quietly, not really meaning to. Bunny heard him anyway, ears tamping down to his head.

"Look at all of that," he said, pointing to darkness encasing the holy star. "That's a _lot_ of black magic, Jack. I would know. I dealt in these things extensively before I took up my Guardianship. That's a lot, and the worst part is, there's plenty more where it came from. Pitch doesn't need it."

Jack pursed his lips. "Just give it back."

Bunny glanced hostilely at Pitch. "You're so insistent on bein' Jack's friend. If that's the case, then take a second to think about it. Having a little darkness locked away from you isn't bad. Think about what's best for him."

_That won't work,_ Jack thought smugly, but his opinion wavered as he watched Pitch hesitate, face falling. "You've got to be kidding me."

Pitch looked at him with wide golden eyes, and Jack saw the vulnerability there. Everyone else was stunned into silence because they saw it too.

"No, no way! Didn't I just tell you that I was fine with it?"

Pitch frowned and looked between the flames and Jack. Then Bunny said something lowly that only Pitch could hear, and something in his eyes shifted in a way Jack didn't like.

Pitch took a step away from the flames.

That did it.

"I've had it!" Jack exclaimed, throwing up his arms and marching forward. He pushed past the other bits of magic – they were surprisingly cold – and stood next to the burning black star. "I said it's fine. What's it going to take for you to believe me? Do I have to get it for you and shove it down your throat?"

His hand stretched out towards the black magic.

The simultaneous cries of "_NO!_" nearly gave him a heart attack, and he was bowled over by Bunny. Everyone had taken a step towards him, even though he hadn't been going to touch it, honestly. When he finally wriggled his way out of those furry arms, he looked up and saw Pitch starting at him, but to his relief, the stare was reassured.

The shade pried the darkness away from the star so it glowed again, and consumed what was rightfully his. Bunny shut down the spell and the room was snapped back to its original rich hue, but shadows clung to Pitch Black and swirled around him, covering him, hiding him from Jack.

For a moment – _only_ a moment – Jack's heart stuttered with doubt. What if the lack of shadows had been the key to getting Pitch to silently admit his love? What if—

As it was only a moment, he could only finish the one thought, because the shadows snapped down suddenly and everything was flat, clinging to Pitch's armor so none of the gold patterns shone through. The man's eyes were closed, and he had a peaceful look on his face, swaying slightly as though he could hear a sweet melody. From his mouth came a long sigh, though it was more of a hiss that had the other Guardians on edge.

The eyes opened.

Bright vibrant eclipses looked only towards Jack. Pitch extended a hand, which Jack slowly accepted to stand. He searched Pitch's face for anything, but he was wearing his annoying mask of stone again, and Jack had to stare very hard before the corners of those thin lips turned upward.

Jack smiled back. "Alright?"

Pitch gave an almost imperceptible nod, and that was all Jack needed to fling his arms around him in a tight hug, uncaring of who saw. He heard some amused chatter and a squeaky gasp, but then he was yanked away from Pitch by a very annoyed Bunny, who grumbled sorely, "Don't do that in fronta me, would ya?"

Jack hugged him too.

* * *

He got Pyotr alone a little while later.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately before the warrior could speak. "I can't come with you right now. Part of that reason is because I…I just need to spend some time alone."

"By alone, you mean with Pitch," Pyotr said good-naturedly.

Jack blushed. "A_hem_. The second reason is that I don't think he'd want me to go right now…we just sorted things out, I think, and I don't want to mess it up by leaving him."

"Don't worry," Pyotr laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulders companionably and shaking him. "You are free to visit any time you want. And in any case, I will be a bit busy for a while anyway."

"With what?"

"Searching for your culprit."

"But you don't have to! It's not your job. I thought your king didn't want you to get involved."

"Well, I didn't. And now I will go to him with a formal request to aid you. If this happens again, I don't want to risk involving my people, so we should get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Think of this as a favor to you."

"Guess I'll owe you big time."

Pyotr nodded. "I'm sure I'll find a way to collect."

"Collect another time, frost spirit." Pitch was suddenly behind Jack, wrapping an arm around him so that his hand was splayed across the front of the blue hoodie possessively. "And I'll have to approve of said collection."

Which was probably code for, _You set one foot out of line, and I'll gut you._

Pyotr just smirked, bowed gracefully, and flew away, back to wherever he was from. And Jack realized, very stupidly, that he'd never asked where he was from.

"I never asked where he was from."

Pitch gripped him when he felt him start to float up. "No. You'll find out another day, I'm sure." He lead Jack back to the Globe Room where Fuinor was preparing to leave.

"I'll be back in a day or so to continue," the king was saying. "Admon doesn't foresee returning, as his land is too wounded and sick to be left alone. He's doing all he can."

"Of course," Tooth agreed graciously.

Fuinor clasped hands with North. "Thank you for the gift. Getting in touch will be much easier now." Jack could see a lovely little communicator of magic ice in his other hand. "Call as you wish. I and my army will be at your disposal. I cannot thank you enough for your help."

"We are all still in need of help," North said.

"Yes. Farewell." The dark elf approached Jack and Pitch, giving the latter a very kingly bow and a kind word in the elfish language. Pitch replied in turn, and Jack just looked between the two, confused and silent.

Fuinor then looked down at the young winter spirit and said, "Jack. While we have not seen eye to eye and I still think you are an inexperienced, arrogant whelp," Pitch laughed at the way Jack bristled, "I find your presence rather refreshing, and hope that we may get along as we find ourselves working together in the future."

Jack snorted, but shook the hand that was offered to him. "Okay. You're alright, I guess."

Fuinor chuckled and cuffed him over the head with a fatherly air before turning and leaving in a sudden whirl of violet smoke and mist. Jack had never seen the king leave before, and cocked his head in wonder. "So that's how he does it."

"His people _are_ lords of the shadows like myself," Pitch said.

Jack turned and smiled coyly at him. "I like your way better."

Pitch looked dangerously close to kissing him, but the appearance of Bunny killed any thoughts of that. "Oi. I gotta be heading out. I'm going to start returning some of the magic. Want to come with?" He spoke only to Jack, pointedly ignoring the Nightmare King.

Jack shook his head apologetically. "Think I'm going to just fly out. I've been asleep for two weeks, which is super weird. I just want to spread some snow."

"It's summer," Pitch deadpanned.

"I can think of a couple mountains that could do with a sprinkle." The look shared between them was heated, and still went unnoticed by the Pooka.

"Whatever, mate. We'll call you if anything crops up."

That was all. Jack found himself over the ocean minutes later, flying next to Pitch on his Nightmare.

"It's…over?"

"No."

"Yeah, I guess not." Jack sat behind Pitch and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face against the amazingly warm armor. "But I think if we just find this person, it'll be done."

"I don't believe so. This was just the appetizer. We've a long way to go."

"Then I'll share the main course with you," Jack vowed quietly. He felt a hand grip his gratefully.

"And when this is over, you'll be dessert?"

Jack laughed, and Pitch twisted to scoop him closer and kiss him as the wind blasted them. "Speaking of food," the shadow king murmured lustily against his mouth, "I'd like to try fixing up the kitchen next. While you were asleep, an unbidden fantasy sprang to mind. Something about me, you, naked…watermelon slices."

Jack would have started rutting against him right there if they weren't on a horse in midair and that horse weren't sentient, because that was a little weird, Onyx knowing what was going on between her master and his friend. Instead, he squeezed Pitch's middle so hard that he was sure he left bruises. "I like that idea, but you haven't finished anything. Every room you started on isn't complete. Shouldn't you…?"

"I was waiting for you."

And wasn't that one of the most romantic things Jack had ever heard. "You mean you were too lazy to finish, so you thought, since I'm so eager to shack up with you, I could just finish it for you."

"Not at all," Pitch said in a way that sounded like that was exactly it, even though Jack knew it wasn't true. They were quiet the rest of the flight, and when they touched down before the lovely home in the mountains of Lakeland, Jack eagerly sprang for the front porch only to be dragged playfully back into Pitch's arms.

His heart felt so light. He hadn't thought he might actually find someone in his eternity that he might love, least of all one such as the Nightmare King. He also hadn't expected to encounter this much trouble, the kind that came with Pitch. But he found that he wouldn't have it any other way, thank God.

He noticed that Pitch had buried his nose in his pale neck awhile ago. "Like what you smell?"

"Hm."

"No fear, sorry. I'm not scared of you anymore."

"That's fine." They started a slow walk up the stairs to the front door. "I like the taste of these other emotions." They entered, and as soon as the door shut, Pitch had him pressed up against it, sucking his bottom lip in without a second thought.

Jack moaned quietly and threaded his hands through the shade's thick black hair, breathing his scent as though it were the only air he'd need for the rest of his immortal life – and he'd be happy if it was.

"I love you," he murmured quietly as he felt a hand unbuckle and unzip him. "I love you, so don't leave me. Don't go anywhere. Stay."

"Alright," Pitch said desperately, finding his member and squeezing. He kissed Jack when he whined. "Then you must promise me the same."

"Stupid," Jack panted. "'Course I'll stay."

"It's not stupid." Pitch paused his ministrations on his cock and fixed him with a very serious look. Jack did not shy away from what he found in that golden gaze. He welcomed it. "We're not out of danger yet."

"I know."

"It will grow worse when we find our culprit."

"We can handle it," Jack growled, loving how Pitch had used "we" and "our", but hating that he had stopped moving. "Now keep going."

"Jack," Pitch purred almost sadly, removing his hand entirely. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Do you recall the battle at the Pole? This will be much worse, when we—"

"You're joking." Jack took his face into his hands and kissed him almost angrily, forgetting about his erection for a little bit. "You do realize that if all the crazy shit we've been through couldn't drive me away before, it's not going to drive me away now or later. Now you're the one drawing conclusions that are painful for both of us. So just stop. Get it? I'm with you, every step of the way."

Pitch stared at him a little longer, waiting for him to take it back, but he did relax and embrace him gently. "Thank you."

Jack hummed softly. "I love you."

"You'll grow tired of that."

"No I won't, and neither will you." He felt the arms tighten around him, cloth brushing against his hard dick, and he was brought back to the issue at hand – or the issue which was not in Pitch's hand. "Okay, you started this. Now finish this."

Pitch gave him a very devilish look and began to slink down his body, breathing on the flushed head when he reached it. "I feel like you're only going to use me for sex."

"Nope. This is still part of your apology package."

"Package," Pitch grunted humorously, taking him into his mouth.

Jack tried to think about all the wonderful centuries ahead they would spend together, because it was a nice thought, really, but that mouth was intent on apologizing _and_ making up what they didn't finish this morning. Pitch seized his hand and pushed their fingers together, and Jack saw through hazy, lusty vision a dark shadow creep over his pale skin, Pitch's personal statement of love.

Jack iced back, and Pitch gave an approving suck that had him coming far sooner than he had intended. He slid to the floor, and Pitch caged him in against the door, kissing him, giving him a familiar taste of both of them.

"This is going to be a habit, I can tell," Pitch said amusedly.

"A good habit?"

"Definitely." His sharp eclipse eyes suddenly darted to the window, and he started to laugh, pulling Jack into his lap. The frost spirit didn't see what was so funny until he looked too.

It was snowing.

Jack joined Pitch in laughing, and the beautiful sound rang through the hallowed, unfixed halls.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hey! Done! Add me to your watch list, or just check back in a month or so, for another ROTG fic (which will _not_ be the sequel). Thank you for reading. Have a lovely summer.


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